Harry Potter and the Magical Muffin Mischief
by LuciusLoversandSnapeSnoggers
Summary: Harry and co. embark on yet another 'magical' adventure. Draco's baking muffins, Hermione has cancer, Blaise is slightly scary, and Dumbledore might be a little too inappropriate. Ron...yeah. The 'magical' muffin mischief will seduce you all!
1. Chapter 1: Utter Nonsense

**Disclaimer**: Sadly, we did not create, nor do we own, Harry Potter...that lovely right belongs to other people with lots of money...and castles...however, the plot is ours.

A/N: Hey everyone! This is our first fanfic...just some silliness, mind you...but we hope you enjoy it all the same! Kisses, Michi and Elizarita.**

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**Harry Potter and the 'Magical' Muffin Mischief**

Chapter 1:_ Utter Nonsense Upon Returning to Hogwarts_

One fine autumn day, a young boy named Harry Potter stood in front of a brick wall, scrutinizing it fiercely. Making sure that the coast was clear, Harry Potter stepped through the wall. This was no ordinary wall, however. This was a 'magical' wall that only 'magical' people could walk through to board a 'magical' train to attend a 'magical' school with their 'magical' friends and learn 'magical' lessons and use 'magical' wands and witness 'magical' events of all types of 'magical' sorts. _((A/N Michi: did I mention it was 'magical'?)) _He hopped onto the pretty, shiny, big, red piece of bubble gum that was suspiciously stuck to the station floor, charmed it with _Wingardium Leviosa_, and soared around until the conductor cried out, "You great pruny prat! Get on the train before we smack you with a wet noodle!"

Harry replied, "Well although getting smacked is rather fun, I must see my most favorite beast, Ronnikins, and that weirdo big-toothed girl – er, I mean – Hermione." He leapt on board gleefully and gave the conductor a smarmy wink. The conductor shifted uneasily, then promptly shoved Harry into the train car. Harry stood up, brushed himself off, and pranced down the length of the train searching for his friends.

His prancing was soon interrupted as he collided with none other than Draco Malfoy, who was singing out, "Muffins! Muffins for sale!" Malfoy's product, which consisted of an assorted variety of muffins, came showering down on them.

"Alas, a shower of muffins!" screeched Harry. "This must be my lucky day!" He promptly began to snatch muffins out of the air and stuff them into his pocketses – er – pockets.

"Scar-boy, you imbecile! What have you done to my 'magical' muffins?" Draco yelled accusingly.

"Yours? Muffins? 'Magical'? What do you mean _YOUR_ 'magical' muffins? These are obviously mine as they are now concealed in my 'magical' pockets… Blondie," Scar-boy replied.

"FINE!" Blondie yelled, snatched up the remaining muffins, and flew down the length of the train corridor doing a series of gymnastic moves he had learned that summer from Snape. He looked (and sounded) like a rather small, well-dressed, blonde, dying velociraptor.

A rather startled Harry inched along the ceiling, listening through the cracks in the doors for Ron's cracking voice. After successfully identifying it, he turned himself into a cockroach, scurried into the compartment, landed on Ron's head, and transformed back into a messy-haired kid. _((A/N: No, there was no one in the compartment with Ron. He just talks to himself.)) _

"Hallo there, Ron!" Harry yelled, "Good to see you again!"

"How's the view from up there, Harry?"

"Marvelous! Splendid! Fantastic! Beautiful! Well actually, it's just some peeling wallpaper with some graffiti about Draco baking muffins. It's rather scary, can I come down now?" Harry replied.

"Wow, you can always make my day better! Down you get!" Ron answered as he attempted to untangle Harry from his shoulders. When almost done, they found themselves in a rather provocative position just as Hermione entered the compartment, positively glowing, not to mention glowering, in all her bushy haired glory.

"Do I WANT to know?" she asked of the two giggling imbeciles lying on the floor.

"Actually, first I was sitting here, musing about why maids are the only ones who can carry feather-dusters without looking like complete wankers when a cockroach landed on my head – a bespectacled cockroach, mind you – and then turned into young Harry here. I - "

"Oh, do shut up Ronald. It was a rhetorical question, you twit, and I didn't expect any answ -" Hermione reprimanded, then stopped suddenly when she noticed the boys gaping at her shirt. "What is it?" she snapped.

"'Mione, what's wrong with your shirt?" Harry inquired. "It didn't look like that last year."

"Yeah…it's all lumpy…is it cancerous? You might want to get that checked out by a professional," Ron added. Both boys began to prod the lumps gently.

"Identical twin cancerous lumps. Quite odd indeed, eh Ronald?" Harry observed as he continued prodding curiously.

"Bloody strange…and downright peculiar…but they do make her look rather shapely…" _((A/N Michi: don't you lurvf this?))_

Hermione stared at them angrily. "Stop that at once!" she exclaimed.

Just then, Seamus Finnegan, self-acclaimed Pervert Extraordinaire of Gryffindor, burst into the compartment. "What's all the ruckus?" he asked nonchalantly, then noticed Hermione's chest region. "Boooobs…" he drooled and reached out a hand. Hermione slapped it away and Seamus dejectedly ran from the compartment.

"Oh…so that's it…" Harry said softly as he and Ron withdrew their hands.

Ron looked at his hands for a moment, then exclaimed, "Wicked! You and I just got to second base with Hermione, mate!" He high-fived Harry. Hermione "hmph"-ed loudly and stormed out of the compartment.

Ron's stomach grumbled loudly. "Ugh, I'm positively _starved_," he whined. "Got anything to eat?"

"Turraaaaaah!" Harry exclaimed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out something. Unfortunately, Harry carried many things in his pockets, and the first thing he procured happened to be some rather crusty cheese cubes. He continued digging and finally produced two of the muffins that he had snagged from Malfoy. The muffins were wrapped in pink and orange polka dot patterned cellophane and had labels tied to them with pink ribbon. Harry kept the blueberry muffin for himself and handed Ron the questionable-looking rutabaga-cottage cheese-lime flavored one.

"Harry…it's just like mum used to make…oh how I love the unsavory blend of awkward flavors!" He held the muffin up and gazed at it reverently. "Food, glorious food!" he sang, and proceeded to go on with the entire Broadway number until Harry elbowed him in the face. He then devoured the muffin vociferously. Harry watched him with disgust. "Wot?" Ron asked as crumbs sprayed from his mouth. Harry shrugged and averted his gaze as Ron sighed and patted his stomach contentedly.

"You know, Harry, that Malfoy can make a mean muffin. Let's go find Blondie and get some more!"

"Right-o," Harry agreed and he and Ron linked arms and skipped down the train car singing, "We're off to see young Malfoy, the oh so wondrous muffin god, because because because because becaaaaaaaause – OOF!" Their lovely, joyous song was interrupted as they collided with Hermione. She began screaming at them and shoved them off.

"She's just upset because she has cancer…" Ron whispered to Harry. Harry nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I heard it gives you terrible mood-swings," Harry added.

"I HEARD THAT!" Hermione shouted after them. They ran away from her quickly, but then flew backwards down the corridor as the train stopped with a lurch. They fell once again on Ol' Bushy Hair.

"Wow, quite soft," remarked Harry, who was nestled on one of Hermione's 'cancerous lumps.'

"Yeah, these came in quite handy," Ron agreed as he patted his lump fondly.

"Mmm…nice basoomas Hermy…" said Seamus in a muffled sort of way. He had somehow appeared facedown between Ron and Harry.

"AAAUGH!" Hermione yelled and chucked the boys out of the train. They landed with a soft thud on Hagrid, who was nonchalantly singing about Blast-Ended Skrewts on the platform.

"'Lo there, 'Arry! Didna know ya were so eager ta see yer ol' friend Hagrid," he exclaimed in a giant-y sort of way. He carried the three boys over the 'horseless' carriages. Harry gave his crusty cheese cubes to the nearest threstral.

"Feeding cheese to thin air _again_ are we, eh Potty?" Malfoy drawled from behind him.

Potty turned and replied, "Well, at least the thin air accepts my cheese, Lucius Jr. Because it seems that even the air won't buy your muffins."

Lucius Jr. blushed and covered his unbought muffins defensively and cried, "They just need time to be accepted! The majority of the Hogwarts population isn't ready to receive such deliciousness!"

"Muffins?!" Ron shouted, and he dove onto Malfoy. "Give them here, you great barmy old bat!" The barmy bat shrunk back in horror and disgust as Ron began devouring his precious muffins. He managed to slink away, muttering darkly. "You will pay Weasel…you and your little Potty-trainer too…YOU WILL ALL PAY!" The crowd around him looked confusedly at the blonde as Draco shouted to himself. When he noticed that everyone was staring at him, he smiled seductively and winked, flashed the crowd, then scurried off quickly as everyone squealed in delight.

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The students filed into the Great Hall and settled into their seats, much like a herd of hippopotami settling into the mud of the Nile. Harry sighed, "Denial is not just a river in Egypt…"

"What are you going on about, mate?" asked Ron, confused.

"Nothing you should worry your pretty red-head about, Ronnikins," Harry said comfortingly as he patted his friend's rump gently.

"Right then," squeaked a rather flustered Ron. "Could you not do that at the table? Maybe somewhere," he paused to look around sneakily, "_private_?" He raised his eyebrow suggestively.

"Ron, I think your eyebrow's spazzing…" Harry replied. He was obviously oblivious to the innuendo. Ron sulked and picked at his mashed p's glumly. _((A/N Elizarita: mashed p's is obviously short for mashed potatoes…and not mashed puss or mashed pHs, like spell check wants me to put…))_

After the sorting was over (none of the upper levels really cared about it anymore), Dumbledore stood to give his speech. The whole Hall fell silent as he lifted his 'magical' hand, but at this moment, Malfoy muttered, "The old goat's still around?" The entire crowd fell silent and turned to look at him, so he slid under the table.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Dearly beloved," he began, "we are gathered together once again to partake in the beautiful knowledge of 'magical' things. What a pleasure it is to be reunited with you all once more. Almost as pleasurable as Mr. Malfoy's stunning abdominal display earlier – er, I mean – Mr. Malfoy, that was wrong and I need to see you in my office once my speech is over." The old man's eyes twinkled and Draco groaned and slid farther under the table. "On another note, we have decided to keep dragons in the school. They will chase anyone who is late for class or out of their dorm past curfew. We may, er, conveniently forget to feed them, so, unfortunately, some of you will be eaten. But it is for the greater good. Overpopulation is a problem today that needs to be addressed." Dumbledore watched the students shift nervously and glance around. The rest of the staff seemed rather puzzled as well. Suddenly, Dumbledore burst into raucous laughter. "You should have seen the looks on your faces! HAHA! I GOT YOU ALL! I WIN!" he shouted, and with that he became serious once more and glided out of the room. Several seconds later, a voice from outside the room shouted "_ACCIO DRACO!_" and a grumbling young Mr. Malfoy zoomed out of the hall.


	2. Chapter 2: The Fantabulous Scheme

**Disclaimer**: (quotes Puss in Boots) that's, uh, not mine...but the plot is! and the muffins!

**A/N: **Just a thank you and a hug and a glomp to everyone who read and/or reviewed!

thanks to soldierx, limeony spiggot, jessahca, and davy for the lovely reviews!

we lurvf you all!!!

**-Michi y Elizarita

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**Harry Potter and the 'Magical' Muffin Mischief**

Chapter 2:_ The Fantabulous Scheme of Draco Malfoy_

Draco Malfoy sat in his private dormitory room, a room that had been purchased by the Malfoy family when the school was built and had been handed down from Malfoy to Malfoy throughout the years. In its original glory, the room was decorated in deep greens and subtle grays, as well as black satin and many snakelike adornments. Old family portraits of stiff, somber wizards lined the walls. However, Draco had immediately decided to redecorate the room the moment he set foot in it. Now, the old portraits were shoved away in a closet, replaced by pictures of Hello Kitty and the hottest new male wizarding models. The walls had been repainted in lime green and shocking pink. The black satin had remained, but it was now covered in purple, pink, and red glitter hearts. He still kept a few of the snake adornments, but they were now glittery green and iridescent silver. The floor was covered in rich purple zebra shag carpet, and the door leading to his personal bathroom was adorned with a large, shining, purple male symbol.

So, Blondie sat on his plush, sparkly canopy bed with his hot pink Barbie Easy-Bake Oven, waiting for the latest batch of chocolate chip muffins to come out. He sighed grumpily and thought about Harry and Ron stealing his precious wares, and his hands clenched into tight fists. He wanted to have his revenge, that much he was sure of, but he didn't know how to carry it out. He glanced at his hot pink, diamond jeweled cauldron and then at his personal potion recipe book, "The Evil Guide to Potions and Brewing Skills: _Just like the regular book, only twice the cost!_" which happened to be open to "Luscious Love Potions: Easy _and_ Illegal". He glanced back at his muffins and an idea slowly dawned on him. He hopped off the bed, a manic grin spreading over his adorable face, and picked up his 'magical' cauldron and 'magical' potion book.

Draco plopped back down onto his bed and flipped through the love potions until settling upon a fairly easy, yet powerful, one. He pulled the relatively easily obtainable ingredients from his 'magical' secret stash and set to work brewing it in his fashionable cauldron. However, when he reached the last step, he was faced with some difficulty. He stared at the final line of words, slightly befuddled as to how to handle such a task.

"'Finally, add a strand or two of your own hair and those who consume this potion will be immediately yours. Simmer the completed product for one minute, then bottle immediately. Best if served chilled,'" Draco read aloud to himself, frowning slightly. The words "_a strand or two of your own hair_" caused him a great deal of trouble. Did this stupid book actually expect _him_, THE Draco Malfoy, to pluck even one of his own beautiful, shining, glistening hairs? He sat there for a minute, contemplating what he should do. Finally, after several minutes of debating with himself, he reached up and grabbed a single strand of his golden locks.

"Alright, in the name of revenge…oh…I – I don't know if I can't part with it! Hair number 50,293…" he sobbed. He closed his eyes and tugged on the hair slightly, then let go. "I can't do it! I just can't!" he cried in distress, but then his gaze fell upon his hair brush.

"Aha!" he cried, and pounced upon the object like a lion upon a rather sumptuous half-eaten gazelle carcass. "I sure hope no one else has used my hairbrush recently…I haven't been able to clean it out in a while…" he said as he pulled several long, white blonde strands from it and dumped them into the simmering cauldron. As it turned out, Draco, in fact, hadn't cleaned his hairbrush in a rather _long_ while.

---_Flashback time, yo_---

Lucius Malfoy furtively crept into Draco's room. He was clearly looking for something. At last he spotted it, and his eyes grew wide with delight. He took hold of the object and gazed reverently upon it for a moment, then began running it through his hair. "Ahh…" he sighed, "I do like dear Draco's brush much more than my own. The handle is oh so much more comfortable to hold, even if it is pink." He continued brushing until a slight sound made him start. Glancing around nervously, he realized that it was only the family cat: a beautiful, silky Persian with long, white fur. Lucius scrunched up his face in glee and cooed, "Aww, does ickle Mister Schmoopsy-Poopsy want to be brushy-wushyed too?" He began to brush the cat, which purred in delight.

At length, Lucius picked up his beloved kitty and vacated the room. Several minutes later, Dobby stumbled in. He eyed the hairbrush for a moment, then began to brush his rather unruly ear hair. Afterwards, he set to work on his eyebrows. He scurried from the room moments later when he heard young Master Malfoy plodding up the steps and complaining about his horrid cuticles.

---_End flashback…peace out_---

Draco watched the cauldron intently, curious to see what color his hairs would make the potion turn. The potion shimmered slightly, then deepened in color until it was a dark green. "Ah…," sighed Draco, "a color fit for a Malfoy. Why, I knew --" He was cut short as the potion began to fizz and grow lighter. When it finally settled, the liquid inside the cauldron had turned a most charming shade of lavender flecked with pink sparkles. Draco frowned. "Bugger," he grunted as he poured the potion into a storage vial. He labeled it "_Eau de Draco_," placed the vial upon a nearby shelf, and set to work making another, rather large, batch of muffins. He added some of his special potion to the batter and poured it into a 'magically' enlarged muffin pan. However, he soon discovered that his Easy-Bake was no match for such a large load, so he had to 'magically' augment it as well. _((A/N E: yes, Enlargement Charms are Draco's specialty…ok, I'm joking…it was set up so perfectly that I just couldn't resist!))_

Draco began his long bedtime grooming ritual while he waited for his muffins to bake. He stood in his fluffy bathrobe in front of his mirror, his face covered in a green facial mask and his hair twisted up in a towel, and admired himself. "Yes, precious," he said smarmily to his reflection, "I'd most certainly let you bake your muffins in _my_ oven…I'll even butter them for you." He winked at his reflection, but then, as the realization of what he was doing hit him, clamped a hand over his mouth and glanced around nervously. He leaned into the mirror and whispered, "We'll continue this conversation later, you smexy beasticle," and proceeded to go about brushing his teeth.

Mirror Draco suddenly responded, "Thanks, gorgeous," causing Draco to jump and choke on his My Little Pony toothbrush. He recovered quickly, brandished his toothbrush at the mirror, and gave his reflection the trademark Malfoy glare. Mirror Drake-cake reciprocated the action. Draco screamed at the mirror and threw his hands about frantically. His reflection did the same.

"STOP COPYING ME!" he shrieked, his voice cracking stupendously. He proceeded to have a right fit on the floor. The mirror, of course, reflected his actions. "AAUUGH!" Blondie screamed girlishly, grabbed a pink, fluffy bath towel, and threw it over the mirror. "Ha!" he laughed triumphantly. "A Malfoy always wins! I have foiled you yet again, evil fiend! Evil…sexy…gorgeous…down-right angelic…handsome…oh…I love you too much." He removed the towel and winked at his reflection. "Sweet dreams!" he called as he scampered off to bed.

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Halfway across the castle, Harry slept in his filthy four-poster. He snored loudly enough to wake the dead (for indeed, Nearly-Headless Nick tossed and turned in his bed several corridors away). The sheets were grimy from lack of washings (and from Harry's habit of forgetting to take off his shoes before getting in bed). Crumbs and half-eaten bits of food lurked about in the folds of fabric, and it was a common occurrence for Potty to awaken with bits of Stilton cheese and Apple Jacks in the tangled rats' nest that was perpetually perched atop his cranium. The sheets, once rich red and deep gold, had become a uniform breen color ((A/N E: "breen" being "brown-green," since "grown" is already a word)). Although one of the house-elves' many duties was to clean the dorm sheets, they had begun avoiding Harry's bed at all costs since no one was quite sure what evils may lurk between the sheets.

However, Harry slept quite contentedly in this sad excuse for a "bed." The dormitory room was quiet aside from his nocturnal noises, as all of his dorm mates had grown accustomed to the earth-rattling snores of the Golden-Boy. Everyone was sleeping peacefully except for one, rather flustered, redhead.

Ron was propped up on one elbow, staring fixedly at his best friend. He blinked very rarely and seemed to be lost in deep thought. He reached out a hand and pushed back several of Harry's unruly, not to mention crusty, dark locks and sighed contentedly as he gazed at the peacefully sleeping Potter. He glared nastily at Harry's sheets, envious that Harry was in _them_ and not _him_. He shook his head fiercely, trying to purge it of these impure thoughts, but to no avail. In the end, he ended up lying awake all night, staring at the canopy of his four-poster, and thinking about Harry and ponies and why he couldn't have a feather duster.

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Draco awoke to the aroma of muffins and the beeping of his oven timer. Barbie's high-pitched, fake voice called across the room, "Mmm mmm! It's done and it smells delicious." Draco sighed and stretched languidly in a cat-like manner, but his gracelessness was soon revealed as he tumbled out of bed and landed on his rump. He rubbed his arse in pain, then continued to rub it as he realized that it was actually quite nice. After several minutes, he remembered his muffins and ran to take them out of the oven.

"Yes, yes," Draco crooned softly as he wrapped his wares in his special cellophane. "Now my plan shall indeed come to fruition…Potty and Weasel-by, you will be _mine_." He laughed maniacally, but then doubled over in a coughing fit when a passing fly flew down his throat.


	3. Chapter 3: Operation Double Distribution

**Disclaimer:** yes, it's ours...so sue us...wait, no, we were just joking...you want HOW MUCH? oh mon dieu we get dragged off by the copyright people

**A/N**: Oh Em Gee Liek whoa! another chapter! have fun! thanks to all who read!

special thanks to our lovely reviewers: jessahca, limeonyspiggot, soldierx, davy, riley, sazzy, and elenathegreat(times ten)

avery, michelle glomps you and wishes you lots of love and kisses

Huggles and Smoochies!

Michi and Elizarita

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**Harry Potter and the 'Magical' Muffin Mischief**

Chapter 3:_ Operation Double Distribution: Muffin Mischief Commences_

Harry rolled over groggily when the first light of morning streamed obtrusively and obnoxiously through the dorm window. He quickly sat up after feeling a hand that he had evidently rolled upon give his derriere a slight squeeze. Harry yelped and jumped off of the bed, landing upon a very startled Ron who was kneeling at his bedside. "Ron!" he exclaimed. "What were you doing? Did you grab my bum?"

"Wha-? OH oh, no no no, Harry darling! I was merely searching for some sustenance and figured that if I felt around in your bed I would surely find some old Cheese Nips or Teddy Grahams or something…" Ron lied.

"Oh, alright then," Harry replied, dug around under his pillow for a moment, and pulled out a half-eaten, not to mention moldy, salami, anchovy, and provolone sandwich. He handed it to Ron and headed to the boys' bathroom.

Ron looked around to make sure all his roommates had vacated the room before opening his wardrobe. He gazed down at a collection, a very horrifying shrine labeled with a sign written in messy handwriting that read "Ronald Weasley's Very Best Friends". He turned towards the "Harry" side and then petted the sandwich in his hand lovingly. "Oh Harry, you are too beautiful for words," he breathed as he placed the rotting sandwich next to the very Snitch that Harry had coughed up at his first Quidditch match and a signed photo of Harry's arm and Lockhart which he had nicked from Colin Creevey. He adoringly picked up every "Harry" item and gazed at it intently (the shattered remains of Harry's Nimbus 2000, every letter Harry had ever written to him, the cards from the Chocolate Frogs Harry gave him, his Omnioculars from Harry, the Chudley Cannons hat Harry bought him, pieces of Harry's hair that had been nicked from his hairbrush, a poorly drawn sketch of Harry's scar, every newspaper or magazine article about Harry that was ever written, the toothpick and tissue Harry's aunt and uncle had once given him for Christmas, a map of Harry's bedroom at his aunt and uncle's house, a list of the items in Harry's trunk, several of Harry's socks, a bit of the slime he had secretly picked off Harry's robes after coming out of the Chamber of Secrets, a pile of used Kleenex from when Harry had the flu, and the wrapper off of the muffin Harry had given him the previous day) before setting it down again.

He then turned to the "Hermione" side. He fished in his sock for a moment, pulled out a hair ribbon that she had worn the day before, and sniffed it before laying it tenderly among the other items. This particular collection included a rather racy, lacy, fancy pair of knickers, several chewed pieces of gum, an old Muggle library card, Hermione's driver's license, all the letters he had received from her, a picture of her bedroom, a map of the girls' dormitory, an old scarf of hers, a mold of Hermione's newly acquired "cancerous lumps" that he had only just made the night before as she slept, a chip off of one of her front teeth, some books that she had given him, a tube of her lip gloss that he sometimes wore for fun, several S.P.E.W. pins, a record of all of her grades, a messily written Granger family tree, an eyelash curler that he suspected was a torture device, a large pile of sugar-free sweets, a photo of her parents, a handkerchief with "HG" embroidered onto the corner, love letters that he had never sent to her, all the Quidditch signs she had ever made, several forks she had used, every single quill she had lent him, and her prefect badge. He shut the wardrobe carefully with a sigh and went about his morning routine.

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Draco decided that if Scar-boy and the Weasel were to be immediately his when they ate the muffins, he should dress with extra special care. He sifted through his wardrobe and finally pulled out a rather small pair of leather pants. "Perfect," he said, grinning. It took almost ten minutes for him to get them on, but it was worth it because he felt extremely satisfied with the way his arse looked in them. He shook it in front of the mirror and slapped it playfully, exclaiming, "Ooer, you are a sexy beast!" He donned a dark green shirt that he left halfway unbuttoned, revealing some of his amazing pectoral and astounding abdominal muscles. As an afterthought, he tapped his pants with his wand and they immediately turned silver. He picked up several muffins out of his stockpile, gave his hair a quick fluff, and set off to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Halfway to the Hall, Draco came to the uncomfortable realization that leather, when too tight, was not only painful but chafed as well. He walked down the corridor bow-legged, trying to cause as little friction as possible. "Dammit all!" he shouted frustratedly. "Why couldn't I have worn jeans for Merlin's sake?" He paused for a moment, then struck a pose and cooed, "Because I'm a Malfoy: upper class and downright sexy! Nothing is too highbrow for me!" He repeated his mantra several times and continued his awkward progress to breakfast.

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Harry and Ron eyed the breakfast before them dejectedly. Hermione, clucking over them like a buck-toothed mother hen, heaped impossible portions of food onto their plates (She herself ate only a piece of toast with her orange juice cough anorexia cough). Harry and Ron picked at their food glumly, shoving their breakfast around with their forks. They did not want to eat this sad excuse of a breakfast; they wanted one thing and one thing only: muffins.

So, when a certain muffin-making Slytherin strutted into the Great Hall, four or five muffins cradled in his arms, they turned to each other with looks of pure ecstasy on their faces. They jumped up hurriedly, upsetting Hermione's goblet of orange juice, and sprinted over to Malfoy.

Malfoy looked at them as a cow would an oncoming train and smirked to himself. _Perfect_. Operation Double Distribution was in motion.

"Oh no! What shall I do with all these excess muffins?" he sobbed sardonically.

Harry and Ron grinned at each other.

"Hey, Blondie, we'll take those muffins off your hands for you… that is, for a price," Ron said mischievously. _((A/N E: wait…shouldn't they be paying Malfoy for the muffins?))_

"Name it, Weasly-poo," Blondie replied defiantly. _Now reel them in for the kill._

"Give me the muffin first, then I'll tell you," Weasly-poo declared.

"No way."

"Yes way."

"Let me ask my sexiness…oh, too bad, it says, 'No,' too."

"Si!" _((A/N E: urgh I despise Spanish…mais, j'adore francais! "Yo amo espanol!" says Michi. ))_

"AHHH! THE SPANISH! My ears cannot bear it! Fine! Take it!" Malfoy replied exasperatedly, grabbed the nearest muffin, and shoved it down the Spanish-speaking one's throat, orange and pink polka-dotted cellophane and all. He did the same with Scarhead, although he did kindly remove the cellophane for him before stuffing it down his Golden-Boy esophagus. The pair chewed obnoxiously for a moment, showering Draco with crumbs and bits of blueberry, then swallowed. Draco rolled his eyes in disgust and dusted off his clothes meticulously.

"So…Ron…what was it that you wanted?" Draco inquired as the two patted their stomachs contentedly.

"Your dad!" replied Ron.

"Ron," whispered Harry rather loudly, "the insult is 'your mom,' not 'your dad.'"

"No, I'm serious. I want Lucius, dammit!" Ron stomped his foot.

Draco's smile seemed frozen in place. "Uh, excuse me? You want _what_?"

"Actually, Lucius is more of a _whom_, Malfoy," Hermione interjected. She had suddenly butted-in in her bushy-haired way of butting in on conversations. Her 'cancerous lumps' were covered in orange juice. "Harry, you owe me a new shirt!" she snapped, rounding upon him and gesturing at her chest furiously. Her lumps positively jiggled with rage.

"Well, you know, Hermione…the orange really does help to hide the cancer…and the way the sun's glinting off of your overlarge incisors reminds me of white-blonde, long, heavenly Lucius hair floating in the breeze…" Ron leant forward towards Hermione's teeth and stroked them amorously. She stepped back, turned, and ran quickly out of the hall, Ron hot on her heels.

Draco watched this scene play out with a bemused smile. _So…it seems that father has been using my hairbrush again…ah, well, this is amusing all the same._ He soon realized that he was being watched, and turned to find Potter staring at him with great interest, and what appeared to be a hint of lust as well. He cracked an evil grin. _Well, at least I got one of them…good, good. Vengeance will be sweet…not to mention Golden._ He pretended not to notice Potter's attentions and turned to leave. He proceeded to 'back his thang up' out of the Great Hall. Potter followed him slowly, mesmerized, so Draco wiggled his ghetto-bootay all the way to the dungeons.

-----

The Gryffindors and Slytherins had Double Potions first this morning _((A/N E&M: OF COURSE they have Potions together, what kind of fanfic authoresses would we be if we passed up a chance to write about pairing Harry and Draco or missed an opportunity to write about dear Sevvy? …Bad ones. DUH))._ The class settled noisily into their seats, giggling and discussing the latest gossip about Harry's 'magical' mental issues and Draco's newest hair-care routine (featured every two weeks in _Witch Weekly_).

The room grew abruptly silent as Professor Snape glided in. However, Ol' Sevvy had undergone some changes over the summer as well; he had become a male model. Snape stood in the doorway, pausing for effect, then reached up one hand gracefully and snapped twice. Loud, pumping techno music filled the room and he strutted his way to the front of the class, crossing one foot in front of the other as a proper model should. The class gaped at him. His robes were more formfitting, his shirt was halfway open, his hair was styled, and he was wearing boots. In short, he was damn sexy, and he knew it.

Snape reached the front of the classroom, turned, and flipped his hair several times. The class _ooh_-ed and _ahh_-ed at the beauty of it. He snapped his fingers once more and the music changed. Snape called out, "Bathing suit time!" and began to strip slowly to "I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt." He spun around several times so the class had a full view of his suit, flipped his hair once more, and stopped. He snapped three times and the music stopped as his clothes flew back onto his body. "Open your textbooks to page 212," he began in his normal tone, "and find a partner. We will be making de-frizzing potions today, seeing as there are some of you," he paused to shoot a glare at his 'favorite' insufferable know-it-all, then continued, "who **obviously** need it."

Ron grabbed both Harry and Hermione and sobbed, "But I want to both of you to be my partner!" He blew his nose on Harry's sleeve.

"Weasly! Five points from Gryffindor for being indecisive! And another five for ruining Harry's ensemble! And another five because I'm feeling rather generous today!" Snape shouted with a flick of his now luscious locks. "Pair off with Granger…I need to have a word with Potter," Snape commanded. Ron sulked as Hermione dragged him over to her cauldron.

Snape gave Harry a 'look.' Not just any look, a 'look' that had been featured in several ads in _Witch Weekly_ and had gotten his face on the cover of _Tumbling Cauldron_ magazine (the wizard equivalent of _Rolling Stone_). Harry swallowed, an odd feeling coming over him. Snape turned and ran in slow-motion to him, Baywatch style. Harry was mesmerized, not to mention practically drooling. Snape stopped in front of him, shook his lovely ebony tresses once more, and said, "Potter, over the past few years, your grades in my Potions class have been steadily declining. In order to keep your grades up to my standards, I'm afraid that I will have to administer private rem-"

"-EDIAL POTIONS LESSONS???!" Harry shouted, looking absolutely ecstatic. _((A/N: courtesy of Makani..."de-" "-TENTION?"))_

Snape paused, comprehension dawning on his face. "Um, no, that won't be necessary, Mr. Potter. I shall just have Draco tutor you. Go on now, pair up with him and get started."

"Righto, Professor. Professor Snape. Snape, dear. Severus. Sevvy. Savvy? Haha, Sevvy, savvy?" Harry exclaimed, then skipped over to Malfoy's desk, swinging his cauldron and humming, "Aphrodite, don't forget me, Romeo and Juliet me, I wanna thing called LOOOOVE!" _((A/N M: I just saw Thoroughly Modern Millie! 96 hooray! My eyes are spinning with glee…Literally.))_

Draco looked positively frightened at the notion of Potter helping him with a potion. So much so that he appeared ready to wet himself. Harry flopped down noisily beside Draco, and clanged his dirty cauldron down onto the desk, knocking Malfoy's sparkly, clean, ghetto-chic bejeweled cauldron to the floor. Draco drove to catch it before it hit the ground, cradled it adoringly, and glared up at Potter. Harry smiled back at him genially. Draco sighed dramatically. This was going to be a long class.


	4. Chapter 4: Potions Class Madness

**Disclaimer**: ughh...do you really think we'd write fanfiction aboutour own work? and we would never in a million years take credit for the songs in here >. 

**A/N**: sorry that this took so long...we scrambled just now to get it up this weekend...we lurvf you all! and we lurvf our lovely reviewers especially!

falling over in sheer exhaustion,

Michi and Elizarita

**EDIT: **changed H-mastah's "knight" lines...thanks chad for pointing that out!**

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**Harry Potter and the 'Magical' Muffin Mischief**

Chapter 4:_ Potions Class Madness and Musical Monkey Business_

Draco grumbled to himself at his misfortune. _Potter? My partner for potions? He'll probably jumble everything up. I can't afford to let my grades suffer because of him. And then there's the matter of the muffins…I'll just act normally, perhaps even play hard to get._

Harry just stared at Malfoy, admiring the grace with which he gathered up the ingredients needed for their potion. After several minutes, Malfoy looked out of the corner of his eye to find Harry gazing at him reverently. Malfoy's adorable mouth twisted into a slight smirk. He looked up at his admirer and snapped, "Potter. Make yourself useful and go fetch some beetle eyes." He thrust a vial at Harry and shoved him off of his stool.

Harry landed hard on the cold dungeon floor. He rubbed his rump tenderly and looked up sadly at Draco. Draco glared back at him and gestured towards the supply closet. "Beetle eyes, Potter," he said emotionlessly. "They're little, round, black, and shiny. It's not that difficult." An appreciative snicker came from the nearby Slytherins.

Harry stood and brushed himself off. He pranced over to Malfoy, patted him on the head, and whispered, "Of course, dear. I love it when you talk down to me. It makes you seem so in control and _superior_." Harry winked at Draco and skipped off to fetch the beetle eyes. He looked back at Draco to smile at him, and so, unfortunately, was not looking where he was skipping and ran right into Professor Snape. They both fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs, cloaks, and sexy dark hair.

"POTTER!" Snape shouted.

"Liek, oh em gee, Sevvy. Don't get your knickers in a twist," Harry replied.

"ESS TEE EFF YOU! 10 points from Gryffindor for using acronyms in my class!" Snape snapped.

"But Professor," wheedled Harry.

"No. Hush."

"But --"

"Uh-uhn."

"I --"

"Shh."

"You --"

"No."

"We --"

"Zip."

"…"

"Shush, Potter."

"Bu--"

"NO."

"Ni--"

"AAUGH!!! DON'T SAY IT!"

Harry and the rest of the class shouted, "NI!" at their ever-sexy professor. He cringed and sank to the floor, curled in the fetal position (his own adorable version of the fetal position, of course). He rocked back and forth several times, then finally leapt up and screamed, "Stop it! Stop saying it!"

The students shrieked and howled like banshees, covering their ears and ducking under their desks. "What is it?" Snape asked, confused. The students shrieked even louder. "What? I don't get it?" Snape was positively puzzled.

Harry stood up and gasped, "The word! That loathsome word that we dare not speak! Pray, say not the word!"

"What? What word? What is it?" Snape demanded. He saw his students cringe once more and comprehension slowly dawned on him. "It it it IT IT IT!" he cried, jumping in a little circle and laughing as his students crumpled to the floor.

All at once, the doors to the classroom burst open and Dumbledore strode in. He shouted, "NI ZONK POOTANG ICKY ICKY NEEWOMB! _(neewomb)_" Everyone fell silent and stared at him. "Stop this nonsense at once," Dumbledore commanded. He then waved his wand, and 'magical' inline skates appeared on his feet. He strapped on a large, flame decaled helmet, skated around the room once, and glided out. The students shrugged and went about their work.

Harry got up, apologized to Sevvy, and strutted over to the supply closet. He obtained the beetle eyes, swaggered back to his place, and set the beetles in front of Draco. He waited patiently for a moment, obviously hoping for some words of praise. Without looking up, Draco shoved some tentacles at him and commanded, "Splice these down the middle, then quarter them. And don't forget to drain the juice."

Harry sighed dejectedly and began chopping the still squirming tentacles despondently. Draco, who was calmly measuring out beetle eyes, glanced over at Golden Boy. _My "playing it neutral" tactic isn't working as well as I would've hoped. Hmm…perhaps if I am a little more _forceful_ with my flirting…Time to turn on the ol' Malfoy charm._

Draco looked appreciatively at Harry, scanning his body with his eyes. Harry looked back at him, anxious. "What, did I spill something? Are my pants on backwards again?" Harry asked.

"No, no. Of course not, Potter, dear. I was just noticing your finely built body," Draco cooed, licking his lips for emphasis. Potter blushed and pointedly returned to chopping the tentacles. Draco watched him for a moment, amused, as Harry blushed more and more crimson. "Well?" Draco asked as Harry neared a burgundy hue.

"Um, thanks," Harry muttered, trying to appear concentrated on his task. Draco reached out a long finger and traced it slowly up Harry's arm. Harry shivered and dropped his knife. Draco winked at Harry and started pulling up his sleeve. He exposed Harry's toned bicep and gave it a slight squeeze.

"Uh, Malfoy…what are you doing?" Harry asked shakily.

"Just feeling your astounding muscles, dear. Flex for me, baby," Draco cooed. Harry flexed and Draco gave a faint mock gasp. He saw Potter close his eyes momentarily and shift uneasily in his seat. Draco smirked. He leaned in towards the Golden Boy's ear.

Harry could feel Malfoy's hot breath on his ear, a sensation that sent a shiver down his spine. He resisted the urge to jump on the blonde boy seated next to him. Malfoy softly whispered, "Why aren't you cutting those tentacles, Potter?"

Draco drew back, satisfied with the awkward look on Potter's face. He saw Potter look up at him, but he continued placidly adding beetle eyes to their potion. He smiled slightly at the sight of Potter sullenly returning to his menial task.

Harry felt mixed up inside. _What the heck is wrong with me? Why am I feeling this way about_ Malfoy_ of all people? And why does he have to be so darn sexy? Oh well, maybe he'll come off it soon. I'm sure the rest of my classes will be okay._ However, Harry would soon find that he was sadly mistaken. Malfoy continued his antics throughout the day and Harry was greatly relieved when the last bell rang that day. He tried to avoid Malfoy's flirtatious gazes through dinner, trying to concentrate on what Ron was blathering on about (something about a certain person named "Luci"), but it was useless. Exhausted, Harry left the Great Hall, not noticing a pair of silver eyes watching his exit with great amusement.

-----

After a particularly emotionally grueling day (Harry had to constantly restrain himself from either jumping on Draco or serenading him to death), Harry decided that all those muffins would soon pack some excess pounds onto his athletic tum-tum. In order to keep up his jock-ly appearance for Malfoy, he decided it was about time to have another go on his self-made stationary bike. To make workouts easier, he had hooked the bike up to an old Muggle radio. Since electronics do not work in Hogwarts unless modified in some way, Harry had rigged it so that his pedaling powered the radio. It is really quite simple, actually; like mice on a treadmill powering a toaster.

Anyway, we now find muffin-filled Master Potter pedaling away and singing along with the songs on his radio. Harry, if it must be known, is not the most talented singer, and his good buddy Ron had entered the room no less than five times to make sure that there was not a dying animal in the premises.

Harry's rather put out mood at Ron's lack of appreciation for his singing skills was soon lifted as a new song came on the radio. The announcer declared, "Okay all you fangirls, this is a song by Clay Aiken that was requested by a Mr. … Dumbledore? Um, those of you with good taste in music may want to switch stations right about now…"

"Wow!" panted Harry. "If Dumbledore requested this song, it _has_ to be good…and must have a kickin' beat."

_-- Flashback time, yo --_

Dumbledore sat at his desk, musing to himself. He flicked his wand lazily and his wall of portraits transformed into a wall of television screens. He watched the students mill about, performing their everyday activities without any suspicions of being watched. He chuckled manically to himself. _How trusting the little buggers are_. He looked at the screens, spotting regular patterns in behavior. Ron Weasly was poking about in his wardrobe yet again; Dumbledore noticed that his visits to it had been more and more frequent over the years. He watched several first years sitting in the Hufflepuff common room, apparently having a burping contest. He saw Seamus Finnigan abruptly abandon his homework in the Gryffindor common room and walk off to the nearest boys' bathroom. _Ahh, it must be 6:06_. Dumbledore smiled to himself. He glanced at another screen to find Harry in the first year girls supply closet, pedaling away on his stationary bike. Dumbledore picked up his Boost Mobile cell phone and dialed the most popular local radio station. He called in his request, smirking to himself. He flipped his phone closed, then opened it again and pressed a speed dial number.

"Yo, dis be Pro McGee, dawg. Who be dis?" Professor McGonagall answered.

"Yo, dis be yo boy, Alby D, H-master general."

"S'up, H-master, where you aaaaat?"

"Word to yo mothaaaa! I be pimpin' it out straight in my crib."

"Fresh. Is be straight to the creepin' true?"

"Fo' sho, homie-g. I be effin' H-dog's mind better'n deez purple pillz."

"Fo' real, dawg? Sheet, dat be some mad skillz."

"Potter be listnin' to bumpin' beats. They go'n eff wit his mind. Creep up hizzay and I sho' yo' for rizzay."

"'Aight. Word."

Dumbledore hung up and waited for Minerva to arrive with the popcorn. He was excited about influencing young Harry's thoughts and actions with music yet again.

--_End flashback…peace out--_

Harry paused for a moment, reflecting upon Mr. Aiken. He seemed to be a ladies' man; perhaps his song could give Harry some advice about the fairer sex. Unfortunately, as Harry reflected, he stopped pedaling, causing his radio to switch off. When he realized this, he shouted, "No! NO! Must get straight advice!!!" and began pedaling frantically. The radio kicked back on. Clay Aiken's, um, unique voice filled the room as he sang the chorus.

_If I was invisible  
Then I could just watch you in your room  
If I was invincible  
I'd make you mine tonight  
If hearts were unbreakable  
Then I could just tell you where I stand  
I would be the smartest man  
If I was invisible  
(Wait...I already am)_

"Oh Draco…" Harry sighed, "I wish **I** could be a fly on your wall…But Clay is popular with the _ladies_, apparently…perhaps I should try them first." Harry got of the bike, nodded to himself, and set off to fetch his invisibility cloak. He burst noisily into the boys dorm, startling Ron, who was kneeling by his wardrobe. Harry walked over to see what Ron was doing, but Ronnikins would not let him come near.

"Oh, I wasn't doing anything, dear Harry…just, er, sorting my socks…yeah, that's it," Ron said nervously. Harry smiled sympathetically at him and gave his rump a gentle pat. Ron blushed and ran out of the room quickly. Harry shrugged and put on his invisibility cloak.

Potty crept stealthily up to the girls' dorm and snuck inside, trying to make as little noise as possible. He slunk in and sat on an unoccupied bed. The only other person present in the room was Hermione. Harry watched her as she reclined upon her immaculately clean four-poster, reading a self-help novel entitled _How to Ensnare your Potions Master: A Guide for the Insufferable Know-it-all_ and fondling her right cancerous lump gently.

Harry observed Hermione for several minutes, trying to recall what Seamus had called the lumps. _Woobs? Boons? Foovs?_ He racked his brain, trying to remember, but soon gave up. He supposed that whatever it was, it must be some odd Irish colloquialism or something. Harry glanced back at Hermione as she flipped a page. _This is bullocks. I'm sure there's someone more interesting to watch._ Harry pondered for a moment, then a grin slowly spread over his face. He snuck out of the room furtively and crept down to the dungeons.

-----

Draco stood in front of his full-length mirror, flexing his toned Quidditch muscles. He glanced at his watch and realized that it was nearing his bedtime. He grinned and began humming a beat to himself, gyrating his hips to the odd rhythm. "Buh da na na da da na na NYEER NYEER NYE NYE NYEEE," he sang to himself, continuing to shake his groove thing. After several eight counts of this, he ripped off his cloak, twirled it over his head, and sang, "Baby can't you see, I'm callin'? A guy like you should wear a warnin'; it's dangerous, I'm fallin'. Buh da na na da da na na NYEER NYEER NYE NYE NYE!"

Draco threw his outer school robes off, covering a nearby chair. He did a hair flip and brought his hand slowly up his body as he belted, "There's no escape, I can't wait! I need a hit, baby gimme it! You're dangerous, I'm lovin' it! Buh da na na da da na na NYE NYE NYE NYEEE!" He dropped to the floor and lolled about seductively as he sang breathily, "Too high, can't come dow-own, losing my head spinnin' 'round and 'rou-ound. Do you feel me now?" and with a "Buh buh buh buh buh buh buh buh" he sprang to his feet and ripped off his shirt, buttons popping off in every direction.

"WITH THE TASTE OF YOUR LIPS I'M ON A RIIIIDE!" he sang, "YOU'RE TOXIC I'M SLIPPIN' UNDER! WITH THE TASTE OF A POISON PARADISE, I'M ADDICTED TO YOU DON'T YA KNOW THAT YOU'RE TOXIC? Ba nuh nuh nuh nyaa nyaah." He ran his hands over his chest and continued, "And I love what ya do, don't ya know that you're toxic?" He shook his arse like no tomorrow and began slowly undoing his belt.

"It's getting' late, to give you uuup; I took a sip, from my devil's cuuup. Slowly, it's takin' over me. Buh da na na da da na na nya nya NYA NYA," Blondie sang. He had fully removed his belt by this time and now cracked it like a whip (ker-SNAP) and crooned the chorus once again, hands on his hips as he danced. When the "screaming/singing in ecstasy" part came, Draco fell to the floor and began slowly grinding, crying out "NYAAAAA Ah ah ahhhhhh. HAAAAAAH AH ah ah ahhhh." He jumped up once more and said, mechanically, "With the taste of your lips I'm on a ride" and continued to sing the chorus again. He slowly danced his way out of his leather pants, grinding up against his bedpost.

Malfoy reached the part in the song where he said, "I think I'm ready now" seductively, which was his usual cue to remove his (small) underoos sexily. However, at this moment, with his thumbs hooked under the waistband of his drawers and pulling them down slightly, he stopped. "Ferret. Senses. Tingling," he cried, twitching. He fell to his hands and knees and began sniffing the air. He crawled over to a corner of the room, paused, sniffed, and then menacingly whispered, "_Potter_." He reached out in front of him, caught hold of something that felt like silk, and pulled. A very startled Harry looked down at him.

Draco's ferret sense left him, and he leapt back, frightened. "P-p-potter? What in the name of Blimey O'Reilly's knickers are you doing here?"

Harry turned beet red and mouthed words incoherently and silently for a moment. Then he dropped to the ground and felt around as though looking for something. "J-j-just l-looking for my c-contact, Malfoy," he muttered.

"What? Contact? Potter, you imbecile, you're wearing _glasses_ for Merlin's sake!" Malfoy yelled. The imbecile blushed a color similar to magenta. He glanced from side to side, then quickly turned and ran, Napoleon Dynamite style, out of the room.

Draco sighed noisily and said, "Like, Oh Em Gee! Double-you Tee Eff was that about?" He threw himself backwards onto his plush bed and gazed up at the ceiling, thinking. _He really is kind of cute when he blushes…_

Draco sat up with a jolt. He slapped himself mentally, reinforced the slap with a physical one, and set about preparing for bed.

Several floors up and across the castle, Harry sat cursing on his bed. "That is the _last_ time I listen to Clay. That wanker," he huffed to no one in particular and flopped down on his disgusting bed, pulling the grimy sheets up around him.


	5. Chapter 5: Of Love Letters

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, these lovely characters do not belong to us (yet). However, their antics are purely our doing. Also, "The Time Warp" is not ours. cries ...WE LOVE YOU, FRANKIE!

**A/N: **PLEASE do not use our review section as a bad couple battleground...eurgh. coughAVERYJESSICAcough

on another note, sorry about the long wait. michi has the flu and we were in New Orleans, mooching plastic jewelry from random men in masks (aka Mardi Gras)

thank you to all our lovely reviewers :3

enjoy! michi elizarita 3

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**Harry Potter and the 'Magical' Muffin Mischief**

Chapter 5:_ Of Love Letters and Body Swapping_

Ron woke up suddenly in the middle of the night to Harry's screams. He quickly hopped out of bed and leapt upon Harry. He shook him slightly, whispering, "Wake up, dear. Wake up. It's okay, your love machine is here."

Harry opened his large, emerald eyes and blinked sleepily. _Blimey. He really should lose the glasses. His eyes are absolutely gorgeous…almost as nice as a certain special someone's silver blue eyes…oh Luci…_

"Er, Ron?" Harry asked incredulously.

Ron was snapped out of his daydream. "Wh-what?"

"Why are you on me?"

"You were having a bad dream. I heard you screaming and came to wake you up and make sure you're ok," Ron replied.

"Oh. Right. Could you get off me then? You're crushing my larynx _((A/N M: WHOOHOO! BIOLOGY WORD!))_."

"Oh, right-o. Sorry 'bout that," Ron said sheepishly. He clambered off of Harry and sat on the edge of his bed. "So," Ron began conversationally, "what happened, mate? It wasn't _You-Know-Who,_ was it?" Ron glanced around the dorm room nervously.

_Oh, it was _you-know-who_ alright. Just not the one Ron's implying. _Harry shook his head as though clearing his thoughts. "No, it wasn't. Just a dream," Harry replied, yawning.

"Oh…right then…well, since you're okay, I suppose I'd best hop back into bed," Ron said.

"You do that, then." Harry rolled over and fell back asleep, dreaming once more about a certain special someone.

Ron clambered back into his four-poster. He lay still for a long time, gazing up at the soft folds of fabric of his canopy. Thoughts flew through his head rapidly, and after a while he came to the conclusion that he would be getting no sleep tonight. He sighed, rolled out of bed, slipped on his fluffy maroon slippers, and padded softly down to the common room.

Ron flopped into one of the armchairs by the fire and watched the flames dance in the open grate. He sighed. _Oh, I don't know what's come over me. I thought Harry and Hermione were enough for me, but now I love _him,_ too. And he's a _Malfoy_, no less. But the way the flames dance and shimmer reminds me of his long, lustrous hair by candlelight…_

"Ugh. Snap out of it, you wanker," Ron muttered to himself. "Listen to yourself, carrying on as though he controls the moon and the stars." Ron sighed blissfully. _He does…he's the reason they shine so brightly…_

"NO!" Ron shouted, slapping himself across the face. "Bad Ron, bad!" He stopped suddenly as more thoughts flowed through his mind. _Luci could punish me…_

Ron sighed once more, thoroughly annoyed and disgusted with himself, and walked over to the window. He looked out to see a lone owl swoop across the grounds and fly off over the forest. _Of course…I'll write him and tell him how I feel. Getting this off my chest will make me feel better, right?_ He surely hoped it would.

-

As the first rays of sunlight became visible over the tree tops, Ron held out his letter, mostly pleased with the outcome. It had taken him several drafts, but he had finally written it. He sat back and read it over again.

_Dearest Lucius,_

_I have written you for one purpose and one purpose only: I love you with all of my yearning heart and dearly desire to be your stud muffin, your love bucket, your sweetie pie, your schmoopsy-poo, and your hawt piece of ass._

"Brilliant. Genius. An absolutely _perfect_ first sentence," he crowed softly to himself. "Now on to sentence two…"

-

A certain Mister Harold "Harry" (H-Dawg) James Potter plodded noisily down to the Great Hall. He smiled dashingly at some gossiping second years who squealed in delight and scampered off. He moon-walked into the Great Hall as the rest of the students were calmly enjoying their breakfast. Harry flopped down at the Hufflepuff table sleepily, only to be shoved across the floor on his bum to the Gryffindor table. He stabbed moodily at his cheesy, lipid-filled omelet while applying liberal amounts of ketchup and Cheetos. Suddenly, while eating an especially Cheeto-y piece of omelet, genius struck him rather hard between the eyes in the form of a song. Without further ado, our young scar-headed hero leapt upon the table like a kangaroo on a pogo stick, sending bowls of Cheetos and ketchup careening away across the Hall. The chatter died down abruptly and everyone turned their gaze upon this spectacle. Little did they know that nothing could prepare them for what would happen next.

Harry screamed out (using his diaphragm like a good little singer), "IT'S ASTOUNDING! TIME IS FLEETING! MADNESS TAKES ITS TOLL! BUT LISTEN CLOSELY!"

"NOT FOR VERY MUCH LONGER!" Hermione suddenly cried out.

"I'VE GOT TO KEEP CONTROL! I REMEMBER DOING THE TIME WARP! DRINKING THOSE MOMENTS WHEN THE BLACKNESS WOULD KEEP ME! AND THE VOID WOULD BE CALLING!" Harry sang like no tomorrow.

The Great Hall's occupants silently jumped up in unison and screamed, "LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN! LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!"

"IT'S JUST A JUMP TO THE LEFT!" Dumbledore egged on, much to the dislike of his fellow disgruntled staff members.

Every student jumped to the left, and brought their hands down in a showering circle. They sang, "AND THEN A STEP TO THE RI-I-I-I-IGHT!"

"WITH YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HIPS!" Dumbledore shouted.

"YOU BRING YOUR KNEES IN TI-I-IGHT! BUT IT'S THE PELVIC THRUH-UST THAT REALLY DRIVES YOU INSAY-YAY-YAY-YAY-ANE! LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!" the occupants of the Great Hall sang, though none as loud as Mr. Potter.

The "Time Warp" continued, during which Dean Thomas did an impressive rendition of Columbia's tap dance. At the end everyone collapsed on the floor. Coincidentally, at this moment, Draco Malfoy himself happened to enter the Hall.

"Ahhh…" he sighed complacently. "It appears that they have all fainted from my radiant beauty. This is going to be a good day." He sat down gracefully at the Slytherin table and helped himself to some of the ketchup-covered Cheetos that were scattered in front of him.

-

"Yes, yes, YES!" an ink stained Ron cried delightedly. "First paragraph complete! Oh Luci, how you inspire me! The words flow from my quill like gerbils at Oktoberfest! Good thing today is Saturday; I have all day to work on this without being interrupted by classes. Oh Luci…soon my true feelings for you will be laid bare for all the world to see!" He bent down once more and scribbled furiously.

-

"Harold, have you seen dearest Ronald?" Hermione cooed concernedly.

"No…not after this morning in the common room," Harold replied.

"What was he doing over by the window?"

"Er, I dunno. He wasn't too keen on sharing that little tidbit of information," Harry shrugged. "He said he'd meet us at dinner, though."

"What, does he plan on _skipping_ class? On a _Tuesday_?" Hermione seemed astounded at the mere thought of this.

"So it would seem," Harry replied. He honestly did not care as much as Hermione obviously did. He held open the door to the Charms classroom for her and she stalked in, flustered at Ron's casual attitude about missing class.

Draco curiously watched Potter and the Mudblood enter the classroom. Ol' Bushy Hair seemed upset about something. Draco saw Potter eyeing the seat next to him, so he reached out a hand and patted it tenderly, giving Scar-head a 'look.' Potter blushed and slid into the seat. Draco rolled his eyes. _Utterly predictable, that one._ Granger took her usual place in the front of the classroom, pushing her chair up as close as she possibly could to Flitwick's desk, as was her custom.

Flitwick entered the classroom and climbed upon his desk. Draco mused to himself about the little man. _He _is _the Charms professor…why doesn't he just use an Enlargement Charm on himself?_ His thoughts were interrupted as the little man began to speak.

"Today," Flitwick squeaked enthusiastically, "we will be practicing a charm to make baskets dance. It's really a handy little trick and can be used to entertain guests at parties. Pair off and take a basket." The little man gestured to a pile of brightly colored baskets that appeared on his desk. _((A/N E: yes, dancing baskets, random, yes yes I know…but I had to find something that sounded similar to what Harry misinterprets the spell as…))_

Draco turned to Potter and looked at him meaningfully. Potter merely stared at him blankly. Draco sighed, lifted his eyebrows, and tilted his head in the direction of the baskets. Potter stared back at him, bemused. "HONESTLY!" Draco finally shouted in exasperation, losing his sangfroid. "YOU'RE MY PARTNER, OKAY? GO GET A BASKET!"

Harry's eyes widened with understanding. He smiled, nodded enthusiastically, and jumped up to fetch a basket. "I really wish he would be more direct…" he mumbled to himself. "I mean, I can't very well read his mind, and his hints are a little too subtle for me…" Harry returned to his place and handed Malfoy the basket. Malfoy scrutinized it fiercely, daintily plucking off several stray pieces.

"Ahem," Flitwick cleared his throat squeakily when everyone had their basket. "Now, to make them dance, simply wave your wand and say, '_Nuto Corbem_!'"

"Okay, I got this," said Harry proudly. He waved his wand and enthusiastically exclaimed, "_MUTO CORPUM_!" He vaguely heard Hermione gasp something about a wrong spell as he passed out.

Moments later, Harry shook his head and pushed another body off of him; it appeared that Draco had fallen on top of him. He made to shove the body away when he realized that the person who lay on top of him had messy, dark hair and glasses. Harry scooted back in surprise and looked down at himself to see slender, graceful fingers, a Slytherin prefect badge, and a cashmere sweater. He reached up to his hair and pulled a white-blond strand of it into his vision. _How the bloody hell did I get in Draco's body?_

Meanwhile, "Harry" had come to as well. He groaned, muttered something about "that imbecile Potter" and rubbed his behind gingerly. He froze, shocked. _This isn't mine_. However, he continued to rub his derriere. _Damn, Potter has a nice ass._

Harry watched in confusion as his body began rubbing itself. He saw an uncharacteristic for him, yet familiar to someone else, smirk play across his features. _Dammit. And to make it worse, it seems that Malfoy is in my body._ As Harry thought this, he saw his own startlingly emerald eyes snap up and glare at him mischievously.

Harry watched in consternation as "Harry" wildly waved his hand around. "Professor!" he heard his own voice wheedle in a whiney way.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Flitwick squeaked.

"I'm going to the bathroom. Now. And you will let me go. And it doesn't matter if I return to class or not because I'm the savior of the wizarding world and I can bloody do what I please," "Harry" said nonchalantly as he gracefully swept out of the classroom.

Hermione watched "Harry's" exit, perplexed. _Harry? Gracefully sweeping? Oh dear, I hope he's all right._

"MALFOY, YOU BLOODY GIT, GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!" Harry shouted. The whole class turned to ogle at him confusedly, and he blushed, realizing that they probably thought he was shouting at himself.

"Five points from Slytherin for talking to yourself and for yelling, Mr. Malfoy," Flitwick screeched. Harry did not care; he ran clumsily out of the room, desperate to find Malfoy before he did anything embarrassing or incriminating while in his body.

Several empty corridors later, Harry stopped to catch his breath. He panted and clutched at a stitch in his side, thinking frantically. _Now, where would that prat run off to?_ He scratched his head, getting so lost in thought that he did not notice Peeves until the poltergeist shoved a gigantic, green, jiggiling, giggling, Granny Smith apple flavored gelatin dessert into his trousers.

"AAAUGH!" (Harry) "Draco" screamed, trying in vain to retrieve the slippery Jell-O from the front of his pants.

"Aww, did the ickle Slytherin pansy not like Peevsey-weevsey's bit o' fun?" Peeves simpered, cackling manically like a cool fool in a swimming pool. He dodged a swipe from "Draco" and careened down the corridor, giggling madly.

"Blimey. This stuff is _cold_," Harry muttered to himself, pulling chunks of Jell-O and whipped cream out of his pants. He paused as he was struck by a revelation. _Wait a tic. **Cold.** Of course! The dungeons!_ And with that, Harry took off, sprinting like mad towards the dungeons, bits of Jell-O flying off in his wake. Somewhere, far off, like a faint tinkling in the distance, the Mission Impossible theme song could be heard, egging young Mr. Potter on.

-

Ron looked up from his work when he heard someone arguing loudly with the Fat Lady. He got up, crossed the common room, and put his ear to the back of the portrait.

_"But I'm Harry FLIPPING Potter! The Boy-Who-Lived! The Savior of the wizarding world! And the most insufferably Gryffindor-like Gryffindor to have ever walked these hallowed halls! LET ME IN THE BLOODY DORMS, DAMMIT!"_

_"Sorry, but I can't let you in without a password, dear."_

Ron opened the portrait to find one of his very best friends ready to rip the Fat Lady to shreds. He took the livid "Harry" by the hand and dragged him into the common room. "Harry" surveyed the room with interest for a moment before flopping down in a red velvet armchair. He picked at some lint on the chair before fully leaning back into it with a sigh.

"All right there, Harry? You've never forgotten the password before; you okay, mate?" Ron asked concernedly, peering at his friend with interest.

"I didn't forget the password, imbecile. I just think that as the Golden Boy I have no need for common things like _passwords _or _rules_ or _permission_. So get your large, freckled conk out of my face," "Harry" huffed.

Ron stepped back, abashed. He had a rather hurt look on his face. "You sure you're all right, mate?" he asked, traces of worry seeping into his voice. "Harry" glared at him in response. "Oh, right then. I suppose I'll just leave you alone. Come get me if you need to talk, though," Ron muttered. He resumed his place by the window and began writing furiously once more.

"Harry" watched Ron scribbling and muttering with interest, but soon became very drowsy. He curled up in his armchair and dozed off, snoring lightly.

-

Harry stopped, panting, outside of Draco's private chambers. He had just realized that he had no idea what the password was. He leaned against the wall opposite the entrance, thinking, and eating some bits of Jell-O. He had only gained access the other night because the entrance was slightly open, so he was clearly at an impasse at the moment.

However, at this time, someone else came traipsing down the corridor, singing "If I was a rich girl, na na na na na na na na na na na." Harry looked up to see Blaise Zabini, a handsome, dark-featured Italian Slytherin (voted by his class to be the Slytherin most likely to join the Mafia) whom he had never really talked to before. A slow, sly smile spread across Blaise's attractive face, revealing very even, white teeth. Harry involuntarily gulped. _He's gorgeous…Wait, what the hell is wrong with me?_

Blaise stopped in front of Harry and drawled, "Really now, Draco. You haven't forgotten your own password _again_, have you?" His eyes twinkled with amusement and another emotion that Harry could not place. "Come on, then," Blaise said with a sigh. He put a hand on "Draco's" rump and gently guided him towards the portrait of some ancient Malfoy ancestor. Blaise cleared his throat and said, with a grimace, "_J'adore Tete de la Cicatrice toujours. Il est _mon_ bête sexy._"

Harry watched Blaise in reverent awe as silky, unfamiliar words rolled off of his tongue. _That's so hawt…I wish I knew French…wait, does this mean Malfoy knows French too?_

"Stop grinning like an idiot and come on," Blaise hissed. "Honestly, we aren't in Hufflepuff, you know. You look like a complete prat." Harry felt himself blush profusely and scampered quickly into the room behind Blaise.

Blaise sighed heavily and threw a small bag he had been carrying down onto an end table. "What?" he asked as he noticed "Draco" staring at it in disbelief.

"You carry a purse?" Harry asked, trying hard to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Blaise looked thoroughly agitated. "Honestly, Drake," he scoffed, "we've been through this a thousand times. It's not a purse; it's a _manly handbag_, also known as the _man-bag_." Blaise "hmph"-ed in a hurt sort of way.

"Oh, er, sorry mate," Harry said, trying to sound comforting. "Um, what do you use it for?"

Blaise brightened at his friend's sudden interest. "Well, to carry my manly things, of course," he declared proudly.

Harry was intrigued. "Hmm…sounds rather useful. Does it come in other colors? Like, spink?"

"Spink?"

"You know, subtle pink, of course."

"Any color you'd like, dear. Would you like me to order one for you? I can have it shipped here in two weeks. It's handmade from Italy. Genuine leather, hand-dyed and hand-stitched." Blaise looked smug.

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Thanks!" he cried, overjoyed, as he flung his arms around Blaise in a tight hug. Blaise looked surprised, but soon reciprocated and patted "Draco's" back warmly.

After a moment, Harry made to pull away, but Blaise clutched him tightly to his chest. "Draco, I never knew you felt the same way about me," Blaise purred, tilting Harry's chin up to look at him. Harry saw Blaise's deep violet eyes close as the Italian boy leaned in towards him. He suddenly realized what Blaise was going to do, and frantically tried to get away. Blaise, however, seemed to take this the wrong way. "Ah, Drakey, you fetish-y little perv…I always knew that deep down you liked a good struggle. I'll humor you," Blaise exclaimed, laughing, and released Harry.

Harry took this opportunity to carry out his master plan: he turned and ran like all hell and a half out of Draco's chambers and hid in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He curled up in a corner in one of the stalls and sobbed softly. _I WANT MY BODY BACK! BUT I ALSO WANT THAT MAN-BAG! DAMMIT! I CAN NEVER WIN!_

-

Hermione burst noisily into the Gryffindor common room after dinner to find "Harry" sleeping in an armchair by the fire and Ron writing by the window. She strode over to "Harry" and shook him roughly until he awoke.

"What is it, Mudblood?" "Harry" spat scathingly.

"Ah, I assumed that's what happened," Hermione said softly. "The spell should wear off in an hour or so, as Harry isn't _that_ powerful…yet." "Harry" glared at her and made to say something, but was stopped by a voice calling from across the room.

"Oh, Harry, you're awake, then. Hope you're feeling better, mate. Listen, could you possibly, er, help me with something? Something, er, secret?" Ron shouted from across the room.

"Fine, Weasley. But just so you know, you're about as subtle as a charging rhinoceros in heat," "Harry" drawled as he crossed the common room to sit beside Ron. "Now, what is it that you need help with?"

"Ron, that isn't Ha-" Hermione began, but she was cut off as Seamus flung himself on her. "Get off me! Pervert!" she shrieked shrilly. She fled the common room, Seamus chasing after her, drooling like a rabid hyena.

"…a love letter? Oh, just say something about how nice you think her eyes are and how you're going to buy her expensive jewelry and flowers. That should work, unless you're trying to woo Granger, in which case you should offer her boring books and say how you adore her overlarge incisors. Now I've got somewhere to go," "Harry" said, clearly bored. He turned to leave and had made it halfway across the common room when he stopped as though glued to the spot. With a soft pop and a cloud of pink smoke, "Harry" transformed back into Draco.

"MALFOY!" Ron shouted with an emotion somewhere between bewilderment and rage. Draco's eyes widened in fright and he fled the common room.

-

Harry heard a door creak and footsteps on stone. He looked up to see a pair of well shined shoes. He let his gaze travel upwards until he met Blaise's mischievous eyes. "Found you, my frisky little Dragon," the Italian boy cooed softly. Harry curled tightly into a ball, wishing that he would disappear.

However, at this moment, a soft pop was heard and with a poof of pink smoke, Harry regained his body. He reached up to touch his messy hair and the cold, smooth glass of his spectacles.

"Wh-what?" Blaise stammered, flabbergasted. Harry took the opportunity to run. He sprinted down corridors towards his dormitory. Unfortunately, Harry had unwisely decided to attempt running with his eyes closed, and he collided violently with another fast-moving object. The two bodies fell to the ground heavily, and there was this great explosion, as though matter and anti-matter had collided. Well, not really; they just fell across the corridor, rolled through a tapestry, and landed in the room hidden behind the cloth with a thud.

Harry groaned and stretched. He looked down to see a very familiar blond gazing up at him angrily.

"Honestly, Potter, do you have to be so damned clumsy?" Draco demanded sorely. He rubbed his bum tenderly and sighed. "You do have quite a nice arse, though. I'll give you that much."

"W-wh-what?" Harry spluttered. Draco watched him with amusement.

"Muffin?" Draco whispered seductively, producing one of his wares from a hidden robe pocket. Harry snatched it greedily, looked at Malfoy, blushed profusely as he felt a hand brush over his rump, and ran out of the room. Draco sighed moodily and headed back to his dormitory. Little did he know that a certain Italian housemate would be there waiting for him.

-

"FINALLY FINISHED!" Ron cried delightedly. He ran up to the Owlery, not caring that it was past midnight. He quickly found Pig and sent the miniscule owl off into the night, a large roll of parchment attached to its leg. "Ahh, Luci," he sighed dreamily, and returned to his dorm, thoroughly pleased and exhausted.

* * *

**A/N E: **wow...extra long chapter. anywho, i am the language master in this chapter hizzay, so here are your translations, in case you wanted them:

**Nuto Corbem**: literally, "I shake to and fro the basket." yeah.sorry about the bad Latin grammar, by the way, but that's how JKR does it. traditionally, the verb comes last, but whatever. and it's not "corbis" because it's in the accusative. meaning it's the direct object. (if i'm wrong, PLEASE feel free to correct me, i haven't had Latin since freshman year...)

**Muto Corpum**: literally, "I change the body." yeah.and harry does just that. not corpus because, again, it's in the accusative (see above).

**J'adore Tete de la Cicatrice toujours. Il est mon bête sexy. : **"I love Scarhead always. He is my sexy beast." er, yes. draco can speak French, of course. come on, Malfoy is definitely a French sounding name, and the Malfoys are upper class, so they probably learn French. oh, and draco isa bit, um, obsessive and fruity. get used to it :D

**if i'm wrong, please feel free to correct me.**

ciao bella! until the next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6: Fates, Mates

**Disclaimer: **the songs in this chapter belong to the sad fools who sang them -er- we mean, their copyrighted owners. sadly, as much as we hope and pray and wish, we still do not own H-Dawg and his darling friends. SPINK is a product of Master Colin's mind, and "antici...pation" belongs to Frank-N-Furter.

**Authors' Note:** chapter 6 chapter 6! it's finally up! honestly, it was hovering over us in our dreams, screaming, "type me! type me!"

er, not really. but we had a meet all last weekend, and then we got sick :...

spe-a-shul thanks to our reviewers!

**XOXOXO! Ciao, Bella! michi and elizarita

* * *

**

* * *

Harry Potter and the 'Magical' Muffin Mischief

Chapter 6:_ Fates, Mates, and Hogsmeade Dates_

Lucius Malfoy looked up from his delicious breakfast of simmering bacon, cheesy omelets, poached quail eggs, rich coffee imported from Columbia, and a jiggling, giggling green Jell-o smothered in whipped cream (he did not eat that particular breakfast item in public, though) as a house elf brought him the post. _Same ol', same ol'_. A letter from Draco, a letter from the Ministry about his "delightfully thoughtful donation", an issue of _Quidditch Illustrated_, and two Howlers from old co-workers were all Lucius took from the pile. He tossed the Howlers to the waiting house elf and made to throw away the rest of the mail when he stopped. He glanced down to see shiny, flourished, pink letters glinting up at him that read, "Lucius Malfoy, Malfoy Manor, Love Town, Romance City." He picked it up gingerly and examined the surface closely (when you are a prominent figure in society, like Mister Malfoy, you have to make sure that your mail will not threaten your life). He lifted the seal on the envelope carefully and removed the piece of parchment inside. Pink glitter and red sequin hearts fell from the letter onto his lap as he unfolded the scented paper. His eyes grew wide as he read the letter's contents.

_Dearest Lucius,_

_I have written you for one purpose and one purpose only: I love you with all of my yearning heart and dearly desire to be your stud muffin, your love bucket, your sweetie pie, your schmoopsy-poo, and your hawt piece of ass. Your radiant beauty inspires me as I write this sacred letter containing my deepest desires. My heart beats with the pounding rhythm of a thousand waves and the flames of my all-consuming passion burn with the heat of the sun._

_I love your hair, long and lustrous, shining like the Mediterranean after a golden sunset. I love your eyes, silver and gray and blue all at once, like fermented troll bogeys. They glow like the full moon, bringing calm, cool light into my dreams, setting my lust aflame. I love your perfect face, seemingly carved by the gods themselves, and your immaculately proportioned figure. And I love your _**divine**_ arse, finely toned and golden brown like two perfectly toasted Fluffy Puff Marshmallows (crisp on the outside, yet still gooey in the middle)._

Here, Lucius paused to scrutinize a strange mark on the paper. _Drool droplets? How…disgusting…yet, simultaneously intriguing. I wonder who this passionate young lady is. I give her points for originality, that's for sure. It's much more creative than the last one. _He continued reading, utterly captivated.

_I know I may not be the best-looking cow in the pasture, or the healthiest rat in the lab, but I pray you give me a chance with you. I want to be the apple of your eye, the lens on your monocle, the ribbon in your hair, and the nail on your left big toe. Or, something like that._

_In closing, I would like to say that we go together like ramma lamma lamma ka dinga da dinga dong. And I've got chills, they're multiplyin', and I'm losing control, 'cause the power you're supplying, it's ELECTRIFYING._

_Love always,_

Lucius looked closely at the loopy, curly, messy signature, trying with all his might to decipher the hieroglyphic like writing. He eventually sighed, pulled out his reading monocle, and brought the paper up to his eye as close as he could. _R…Ro…Riona? Ah, yes, I see it now; it says "Riona Wesley." Well, that certainly is an interesting name. I just hope she isn't a Mudblood, or I might have to use hand-sanitizer if I receive another letter from her._ Lucius got out his portable bottle of hand-sanitizer and rubbed some on his hands, just in case. He then walked over to his desk, pulled out a sheet of his dark green, embossed, personal stationary and his special silver ink, and began writing a letter to his "beloved" son.

_Darling Draco,_

_I'm glad to hear that you're faring well, and that you are Seeker on the team once again. And I dearly hope with all of my heart that you beat Gryffindor and that loathsome Potter boy this year; make Slytherin and the Malfoy name shine in glory on the Quidditch Cup once again._

_I'll have your dear mother send you some more fudge next week. She'll be delighted to know that you enjoyed it._

_Oh, and, by the way, I was wondering if you knew a young lady by the name of Riona Wesley. If so, perhaps you should invite her over to the Manor for dinner one evening. She seems quite intriguing and original._

_Narcissa sends her love and kisses._

_Take care, my son,_

_Your ever loving father_

_P.S. PLEASE try to refrain from calling our Lordship "Moldy Voldy." He doesn't appreciate it and, quite frankly, it hurts his feelings._

_P.P.S. Is Mademoiselle Wesley attractive?_

_P.P.P.S. Don't tell your mother that I asked you that._

Lucius folded the letter, stamped it shut with a bit of candle wax and his personal shield, and handed it to a waiting house elf. "Mail this off at once," he commanded, with a lazy wave of his hand. The house elf bowed deeply and backed out of the room. Lucius settled into his favorite armchair, pulled out a well-loved copy of The Berenstain Bears, and had just opened to his place when he was "rudely" disturbed.

"Lucius! Oh Luci, dear!" called Narcissa, her beautiful, melodic voice floating into Lucius's ear and interrupting his reading. He sighed, clearly annoyed, and abandoned his reading to answer to his silly wife.

* * *

Harry awoke on this fine Saturday morning to something which sounded rather like a penguin choking on a stick. _Ah, _he thought, _Dean's singing in the shower again. _He crept downstairs sneakily to find Ron sitting by the window and staring of onto the grounds. He had not moved from this position since Tuesday. Hermione was in such disarray over this that she actually took it upon herself to do Ron's missed homework for him and turn it in. Harry found this rather odd. Yet, he also found females in general rather odd. He decided then and there not to mess with either.

While musing over his musings, he was startled when young Master Weasly jumped up and cried out in pure ecstasy, "YES! OH, YES, YES, YES, YES, YES!"

Harry promptly took this as his cue to scurry out the portrait hole. Harry, not being very imaginative, had no idea as to what to do on this fine morning. He flirted with the Fat Lady, tapped Snape on the shoulder several times and pretended it was not him, ran into Dumbledore (on purpose of course), recited entire scenes from _Monty Python and The Holy Grail_, taunted the Giant Squid with a bit of moldy old cheese, and finally decided to stalk Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was in no mood for stalkers at the moment, however. He was deep in thought of how to get the rest of the population in Hogwarts to eat his 'magical' muffins and 'magically' fall in luuuuuurve with his über sexy 'magical' self.

Draco was contemplating on how a mass Imperius Curse could be cast when he heard a muffled "tee-hee" coming from his left. He turned to see Potter, slinking along on the ground beside him like an overgrown inchworm and attempting to cover his face with an old magazine. _Well…it seems that along with no subtlety whatsoever, the fool was also not blessed with the knowledge on how to properly follow someone. _Draco sighed and stared straight into the imbecile's bright green eyes. He noted Potter's slowly spreading blush and saw the boy swallow in trepidation. Draco winked at him, and coyly said, "If you leave me be for now, I'll meet you at 11 in the room behind the portrait of Mildred the Manly." _((A/N E:rolls eyes at Harry's naivety:)) _Draco smiled to himself as he saw Potter nod eagerly and scamper away. _Good…that was easier than expected. Potter sucks at stalking…now, how would I get a pink tutu so that I could –_

Draco's train of thought ran off the tracks and crashed in a huge, fiery explosion when he ran head-on into someone. _((A/N E: KABOOM!)) _He looked up to see his violet-eyed, Italian friend.

"Drake-cake, you've been avoiding me!" Blaise cried poutily. _((A/N E: DRAKE-CAKE XD))_

"Well, it might be because you keep coming on to me," Draco replied coldly.

"Well, you were the one who initiated it on Tuesday! Giving me a hug and _then_ tempting me with a chase!" Blaise exclaimed indignantly.

"What? Tuesday? But I was…" Draco stopped as comprehension dawned over his aristocratic features. "Blaise," he said softly. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What?" Blaise said expectantly.

"That wasn't me on Tuesday."

"Huh?"

"Potter fouled up in Charms and we switched bodies. You probably mistook him for me, and with good reason. He _was_ in my body, after all."

"Oh," Blaise said softly. "So, it was Potter all along? And my eyes weren't deceiving me in the bathroom when you suddenly changed into him?"

"Uh, I guess not."

"Oh…so, Potter was the one expressing those feelings?"

"Um, I suppose he was." Draco looked warily at his friend, but decided not to say anything.

"Oh," Blaise said simply. A mischievous grin spread over his dark face. "Um, well, I have somewhere to go. There's some – ah – business that I need to attend to." With that, Blaise turned sharply on his heel, and with a wave of his cloak marched determinedly upstairs.

* * *

Harry was busy rearranging portraits in the sixth floor corridor when he heard an unsettlingly familiar voice purr, "_There_ you are." Harry looked to see Blaise Zabini standing several feet away from him, one hand on his hip and the other clutching a small, spink colored object. Blaise held up the object and cooed, "I got it shipped in early. Rush delivery. You know, family benefits can get you a long way."

"Oh! Um, Blaise…er… hi," Harry croaked through his cracking voice.

"You're wondering how I knew it was you on Tuesday," Blaise stated simply.

_Whoa, Blaise can read minds! Awesome._

"Oh yes… well okay I suppose I was if that is what it was and not what it is," Harry responded oh-so-clearly.

Blaise quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. "Er, right. Anyway, let's cut to the chase. I – "

"Chase? What chase? Where's Chase?" Harry looked around expectantly, then grabbed a random third year. "Why, hullo there, Chase! How are you?" Harry asked in a high-pitched, nervous sort of way.

"Uh, dude…I'm Caleb…" the third year said. He extricated himself from Harry's grip and ran away.

"Anyway," Blaise continued, a hint of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "I came here to give you your new _attractive, Expensive, SPINK_ man-bag," Blaise said seductively, then paused to hold it out towards Harry. When Harry reached for it greedily, Blaise drew it away and winked. "That is," he went on, "on one condition, of course. You must come and spend the day at Hogsmeade with me tomorrow."

"Y-y-you mean, like a d-date?" Harry gulped.

"No, no. Just a romantic, exclusive, possibly-committal-with-a-dash-of-snogging outing," Blaise reassured, with a flippant flick of his fingers.

"Er…"

"I'll buy mochaccinos later," Blaise teased.

"OKAY!" shouted Harry. He grabbed his handbag from Blaise and proudly swung it over his shoulder, then linked arms with the Italian and strutted off to the Great Hall for lunch _((A/N E:rolls eyes at Harry again:)).

* * *

_

At 10:45 that night, Harry surreptitiously crept up to his dorm room (he was quite proud of this feat, actually, as he had only knocked over two objects and run into Hermione less than three times). He fetched his invisibility cloak and scurried off towards the fourth floor.

Meanwhile, Draco was waiting in the room behind Ol' Mildred's portrait. He fixed up some comfy pillows, set out a tray of muffins, and lit a cheerful fire in the hearth. He settled into a stupor until he was brought back by a noise produced from a vibrating object coming his way that sounded a baby elephant on the warpath. He sighed. _Ah, Harry has arrived_. He looked up to see the portrait swing open, then close without anyone entering the room. _Wait…where the devil is he? Did he change his mind halfway through opening the portrait, or did he do that as a joke?_ Draco pondered this strange occurrence thoughtfully for a moment until he saw one of his scrumptious muffins levitate. _What the bloody hell?_ Draco reached out towards the muffin and grabbed it, then felt a hand and an arm under a silky fabric. He yanked at the fabric and the Invisibility Cloak slid off, exposing young Harry to Draco's vision. Harry blushed.

"Oh, sorry. I guess I forgot to take it off. It's happened before…no wonder you didn't say anything to me," Harry explained apologetically, thoughtfully chewing his muffin.

Draco sighed softly. "Okay, so, what would you like to do?" Draco asked coyly with a suggestive wink.

"Umm…uh…er…I'm not sure," Harry mumbled. Draco covered his face with his hand. "Ummm…what were you, er, thinking?"

Draco uncovered his face and placed his hand gently on Harry's arm. "Oh, I was thinking that perhaps you and I could play a game or two," he cooed softly, lifting a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"A game! What fun!" Harry cried.

"What fun, indeed," Draco whispered. He leaned in towards Harry, eyes closed. Harry, however, was oblivious to Draco's intentions. He leapt up quickly with excitement. Draco fell over.

"I have just the thing!" Harry cried, rummaging around in his trouser-front. He cried, "Aha!" and pulled out a flat box.

"Monopoly?" Draco read with disgust.

"Uh huh!" Harry cried delightedly. He looked as though his grin might split his face in half.

"You're absolutely hopeless," Draco sighed disgustedly. He sat back in his chair, crossed his arms, and pouted. Draco decided to use a little tip his father had shared with him a long, long time ago.

_-Flashback time, yo-_

"Father, I have a confession."

Yes, Drake-y?"

I'm… I'm… um… I thought you should know that my garden gate swings the other way, so to speak."

"Son! You have discovered the male Malfoy family secret at last! None of us are actually heterosexual males!"

"Oh, then that's a relief. I thought you would try to turn me upside down and shake the gay out of me or something like that."

"Well, Draco dearest, I have a tip that my father once told me a long time ago. 'Lucius,' he said, 'Men are like little woodland creatures. You must _lure_ them to you with tiny breadcrumbs and soft words of encouragement. You cannot simply whip out a rock and conk them over the head with it!' Remember those words, son. Remember them."

_-End flashback … peace out-_

"Actually, I've been told that the hope of the whole Wizarding world rests upon my finely-toned-from-Quidditch shoulders," Harry replied matter-of-factly, bringing Draco out of his flashback.

"Oh, well, in that case, it's the end of the world as we know it," Draco muttered. "Although your shoulders are _indeed_ finely toned…" He reached out his hand and rubbed a long finger across Harry's deltoids. Harry shivered (with antici…pation). _Well, Potter is certainly an exception to the woodland creatures. _

Harry threw down the box violently, sat on the floor beside it, dragged Draco down next to him, and began setting up the pieces. "Ok, so, the object of the game is to buy the most property and get the most money," Harry explained vaguely.

"Well, I already have more property and money than you, Potter. Does that mean I win?"

"No, I meant in the game, silly," Harry said, shaking his head quickly. His long bangs fanned softly across his smooth forehead and Draco found himself strangely mesmerized by the movement.

"Um, right. Okay," Draco finally blurted, waking from his trance. Luckily, Potter did not notice his distraction; he was busy passing out the money.

"All right, so, I'll be the banker-"

"You're already a wanker," Draco cut in, sniggering.

Harry blushed.

They played long into the night, giggling like prepubescent schoolgirls and chatting about the latest fashions. Draco was ecstatic about his victory over Harry in Monopoly. However, as he crept surreptitiously back to his dorm, he decided that he would have to help Harry work on his, er, "people skills."

* * *

Blaise woke up on Sunday to the soft pitter-patter of the tiny feet of his pet hedgehog _((A/N M: How did he hear that? It must be an Italian thing!))_. He yawned widely and then suddenly sat up straight. This was his big date! He scurried around getting his beauty list in order. He started out by taking a shower and scrubbing himself thoroughly with zucchini-flavored, rejuvenating body wash. He then shampooed and conditioned his hair thrice. He slipped into some freshly ironed, fitting, black, pinstriped pants and halfway buttoned up a tight, black shirt. He loosely fastened a deep purple sequined tie around his neck and proceeded to dry his hair. He then took his styling gel and glued his hair in place for the "just-out-of-bed" look. He grabbed a pinch of deep purple glitter and sprinkled it in his hair. He closely shaved his face and applied a cleansing mud mask. He fed his hedgehog, Mr. Bloom, and gave them both a manicure, then removed his mask, and applied his bronzing powder (for that sun-kissed, just-off-the-beach look). He coated his eyelashes in mascara, put the tiniest hint of purple glitter on his eyelids, spritzed some French cologne on his wrists, applied a small amount of natural-looking (yet positively shine-tastic, not to mention strawberry-flavored) lip gloss, brushed his teeth, pulled on his finest black Italian shoes, and placed one purple and one small silver hoop earring in his right ear. He did a quick cross-check in the mirror and, deciding his level of beauty had reached its maximum, he started to exit the room. However, just as he crossed the threshold, he felt an odd twinge. _Something's missing…ah, of course. Silly me._ He walked over to his wardrobe, flung it open, and stared at his large collection of man-bags until finally selecting a sparkly purple specimen.

"Perfect," Blaise purred in self-satisfaction as he made his way upstairs. "There's no way he can resist my charms, or my breathtaking gorgeousness." He hummed a grooving beat as he strutted proudly into the entrance hall.

_I hope Harry didn't dress _too_ badly for our date... _Blaise's thoughts were suddenly interrupted, however, when young Master Potter tripped into the entrance hall (Blaise found this very attractive, as he mistook Harry's klutziness for moon-walking). Harry Potter had somehow made himself not only stunning but modelicious. He wore a tight, bright emerald-green shirt (which corresponded with his eyes) with spink pinstripes (to match his man-bag), extremely well-fitting, tastefully sandblasted, black jeans, and a pair of spink and green Converse Chuck Taylor Hi-tops. His hair was artfully ruffled into a state of elegant messiness, and he had a touch of charcoal eyeliner above his lower lashes. After Blaise recovered from shock, he walked over to H-Dawg and pulled a pinch of green glitter from his man-bag and sprinkled it into his hair. Harry sneezed. Blaise whispered softly into his ear, "How divine it is to gaze upon your lovely, sumptuous, voluptuous being! You look so…absolutely, positively _magnifico._ _Bello._" Blaise kissed the tips of his fingers for emphasis.

Harry blushed and glanced shyly at Blaise. "Um…um…um…you look, um, gorgeous-o," Harry replied awkwardly.

"Come, my darling, Hogsmeade awaits us." And with that they linked arms and strolled out to the gates. Draco was not ignorant of this date, however. He saw them leave the castle _together_. And let us just say that his jealousy was turning saints into the sea, while swimming through sick lullabies that made him choke on his alibis. The happy couple was oblivious to Master Malfoy's glare and kept on keeping on. They reached the village and proceeded to mill around the shops (both of them keeping an eye out for a good looking man-bag). Unbeknownst to them, however, the Butterbeer Company was filming a commercial that very day to air on the 'magical' wizarding wireless about their 'magical' new product. This new product happened to be a portable butterbeer bottle that automatically played the drinker's favorite song when opened. Today, they were selecting random kids to come and test their new product for the commercial.

The producer spotted the fine looking Blaise-and-Harry matching set and beckoned them over to try. Blaise pulled off the cap and Gwen Stefani's "Rich Girl" came blaring out of the top. Blaise grooved for a moment, shaking and gyrating his hips like a belly-dancer, until he realized that everyone was watching him incredulously. He promptly shoved the entire bottleneck into his mouth and chugged it, thinking that this would stop the noise. He was wrong, though, as he realized it was still playing away. He threw down the bottle, which shattered, and smirked triumphantly because he thought that he had terminated the noise. However, the bottle shards proved to be of a rather stubborn sort, and the song could still be heard faintly. By this time, several members of the camera crew were singing along but were quickly silenced by a glare from the producer. Blaise knelt down, tapped the shards with his wand, muttered, "Silencio," and put the fragments into his man-bag for later use.

Harry, who was waiting patiently for his turn, was shoved violently aside by none other than Professor McGonagall. She opened the bottle fearfully and "Dip It Low" by Christina Milan came blaring from inside the butterbeer. McGonagall grooved for a bit and then chugged the contents and smashed the bottle on the ground. Everyone stared at her fearfully for a second before she sprinted off, giggling madly.

Harry again reached out to take a butterbeer, but another person shoved him away yet again. This time, Hermione snatched the butterbeer away. Hermione's bottle sang, "I wanna li-li-li-lick you from yo' head to yo' toes an' I wanna move from the bed, down to the down to the to the flo' an' I wanna ah ah you make it so good I don' wanna leave but I gotta kn-kn-kn-know wh-wha's yo' fan-ta-SY!" Hermione began grinding enthusiastically. Surprisingly, she knew all of the words, and she sang along proudly with her butterbeer.

"Ms. Granger! This is inappropriate even by my standards!" Dumbledore cried out and snatched the bottle from her. The bottle stopped playing and then started to replay the same song over again. "Well…um…this is the remix!" Dumbledore spoke seemingly to no one in a tragic attempt to redeem himself. He handed the bottle back to Hermione and slunk away.

After being shoved aside by several more people, Harry finally got his butterbeer. He unscrewed the lid apprehensively, unsure of what would happen. Harry vaguely saw a large, dark shape come out of the bottle as he fell over and passed out.

* * *

OOOH! CLIFFHANGER:P 


	7. Chapter 7: The Battle

**Disclaimer: **Honestly, if we owned it, do you really think we'd bewarping the characters, habits, preferences, actions,and personalities of our own characters? And would we really be on a fan fiction site? Some food for thought for you.

**A/N: **Hola, Bonjour, and Howdy y'all! "Finally," you say, "M & E have written!" Yes, yes, yes, yes indeed lovely reader-type peoples. The latest installment of the mischief has been completed. We deeply apologize for the wait and humbly ask that you forgive us. We've been a bit busy. Some side notes to our reviewers:

Henrietta-Black van der Snape - why thank ya:)

YouGotPhoned - haha...danke! oh, and it's ok, mixing in a lil LOTR never hurt anyone...

ash vault rose garden - we don't _seriously_ listen to that music, we just find it humorous. thanks for the other reviews, we especially liked the remark about family jewels and packed fudge ...and don't worry, we won't explain the "ferret senses"...

tom - heh...mooch-ass grassy-ass!

margaux! - elizarita's beautiful lesbian lover! ...not really though...anyway, sorry about the cliffy, hon...it's been taken care of.

Draco-Slash-Lover - thankee! your stuffles are pretty brill too :D and yes, draco is latin for serpent or dragon

Sally - 2 reviews? oh em gee liek whoa! we are not worthy! grovelgrovel

theKRITIC - onsense? i think we got a new shipment in last thursday...andwe think every girl (and, secretly, boy) with any sense wishes to Accio a Draco ;)

Davy - glad you enjoyed it! a Portuguese man-bag toter? sounds intriguing!

elena the great (times ten) - heehee! backin' thangs up is fun

Zoe - you are freaking cool beyond words.

Mia - love you!

Tina's Ham - boot up the bum...laughed a lot at that one! thanks so much :)

Avery and Jessica - thanks...and we're glad you two are so...adamant...about your couple choices. sadly, harry is taken and ron is confused...but it's ok to be hopeful...and avery, seansnoggers is a pretty good name too! how could we have left that out?

Riley - teehee! thanks, we try to be funny...glad it works out!

Sazzy - aye cap'n! meds away! ...no, actually, the sad thing is that we're like this on our own :P

Soldierx - in the words of Draco, _merci beaucoup...tu es tres sympatique. _:)

jessahca - glad you're enjoying it!

limeony spiggot - teehee! domo arigato!

anywho...enjoy chapter seven, loves!

Kisses and hugs!

Michi and Elizarita

**

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**Harry Potter and the 'Magical' Muffin Mischief**

Chapter 7:_ The Battle of the Sex Gods_

Molly Weasley hummed to herself whilst bustling about the Weasley kitchen, for that is what Mrs. Weasley does best. She switched on the Wizarding Wireless with a flick of her wand, poured herself a 'magical' cup of tea and settled down to watch her soaps. She sipped her tea, sighing happily as the commercials came on. The first advertised some nasty cherry-flavored wart removal gel or something uncouth of that sort, and the second promoted 'Magical' Mickel's Ferret Supply Store ("For All of Your Ferret-y Needs").

Mrs. Weasley absently picked at her knitting during both of these, but the next advertisement caught her attention. "Hogsmeade Residents and Hogwarts Students try NEW 'Magically' Musical Butterbeer!" the announcer decreed obnoxiously. Mrs. Weasley looked up interestedly to see a fit Italian boy belly dancing, Professor McGonagall and Hermione grooving in rather inappropriate ways, and her very own Ronniekins singing along quite in tune with "Sweet Transvestite."

Mrs. Weasley opened her large motherly handbag (not to be confused with the überly sexy man-bag) and began to dig around in it, muttering, "I knew it, I just KNEW what would happen if I let Arthur take him to that _abysmal_ show." She pulled out her personalized Howler paper and reached over to turn off the Wireless, yet her finger withdrew when she saw a(n unusually) well-dressed, familiar, green-eyed brunette take the screen. "Oh Harry darling…if only my son took after you…such a sweet boy," Mrs. Weasley sighed, beaming with mother-like delight. She enjoyed taking Harry into her home and felt privileged that he looked to her as a sort of mother figure. She watched him twist off the Butterbeer cap and gasped in shock as a figure came out of the bottle. As the figure turned to face the camera, Mrs. Weasley gasped aloud again and fainted.

_((A/N: We considered ending this chapter here (teehee), but decided that would be awfully rude and downright torturous. We love you guys too much.))_

Harry blinked slowly and sat up. He groped along the ground for his glasses, found them, and put them back on. He looked up and jumped back in surprise to see a pair of gorgeous eyes, rimmed in charcoal eyeliner, sparkling back at him. "No," Harry whispered. "It can't be…"

The figure grinned at Harry and replied, "Sorry for startling you. I'm --"

"Brandon Flowers!" Harry interjected. "One of my eyeliner-inspiration gods!" He proceeded to giggle and to squeal incoherently like a dithering schoolgirl. Brandon patted him on the head reassuringly and helped him to his feet.

Suddenly, another figure peeked out from behind Brandon. "Hey Harry!" he exclaimed.

Harry gasped obnoxiously. "Oh. Em. Gee. My other eyeliner-inspiration god!" Harry leapt upon the figure and cried, in a very high-pitched, squeaky voice, "BILLY JOE! I'M YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN! EEE!"

Billy Joe Armstrong patted Harry on the back awkwardly and muttered, "Um, you're cutting off circulation to the lower half of my body."

"Oh, sorry. Just got a bit carried away, you know," Harry said softly. He let go of Billy Joe and blushed as prettily as a pansy in direct moonlight on Midsummer's Eve.

At this moment Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil showed up and screeched, "OH EM GEE! THE THREE EYELINER GODS! TREWLANY WAS RIGHT! CAN WE HAVE YOUR AUTOGRAPH AND/OR PHOTO!"

Billy Joe and Brandon, who were used to this type of attention, thought nothing of it and proceeded to strike their amazingly gorgeous poses. Harry, however, fainted in shock and had to be hoisted up by the two singers. Even with the unconscious Harry, it was still a drop-dead stunning photo, since drool is undeniably _in_ this season. One which, it is needless to say, would of course be bought and placed in a full poster layout in _Witch Weekly_.

When Harry came to, Billy Joe had disappeared in an amazingly sexy cloud of black smoke with red glittery sparkles. Brandon, however, remained and helped young Harry to his feet once again. "Harry," he sing-songed, "I have a song just for _you_." Harry blinked expectantly as Brandon pulled a microphone out of his pocket. Music filled the air as Brandon's gorgeous voice rang out over the crowd. He sang:

_On the pitch I remember you were incredible,_

_Catch that snitch, catch that snitch, yeah._

_On the pitch I remember you were incredible,_

_Catch that snitch, catch that snitch, yeah._

_Harry and his scar,_

_And pretty green eyes, like limes._

_Harry and his scar,_

_He's defeated Voldy several times._

_Harry and his scar,_

_He sleeps in a bed of grime._

_Harry and his scar,_

_The world rests on his shoulders, so fine._

_Harry and his scar,_

_And somebody says "he's mine…"_

With that, The Wonderful Brandon poofed away 'magically' in a 'magical' cloud of grayish smoke with yellow glitter. Harry stood there for a long moment gazing reverently at the spot. After several moments, he managed to whisper, "I-I met B-brandon Flowers."

"No, really, you must be joking," Blaise teased, patting Harry lightly on the arm.

Harry, not catching Blaise's mild sarcasm, indignantly cried, "Noooo, I swear! I'm serious, Blaise!"

"No, I'm Sirius!" a deep voice behind Harry said. Harry looked around to see his beloved godfather smiling at him fondly.

"S-s-sirius!" Harry exclaimed happily, several tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he flung himself onto Sirius.

Sirius laughed happily in a barking sort of way and hugged Harry tightly until they were interrupted by a chorus of deep, yet strangely feminine voices. "Come on already, now that we're out from behind that bloody curtain, let's go _do_ something!"

Harry peered over Sirius's shoulder curiously to see a line of five attractive, well-dressed young men tapping their feet impatiently. Two glared at the embracing Harry and Sirius, one filed his nails and sighed, one snatched after a passing butterfly, and the last was licking his lips and staring appreciatively at the seat of Blaise's well fitting trousers.

"Who are your friends?" Harry asked as he parted from his godfather.

"Um, well, you see…"

Blaise impatiently tugged on Harry's hand and said, "Come, darling, Honeydukes awaits us." And with that the happy couple skipped along the road, Blaise desperately trying to capture Harry's hand (and maybe… lips?) with his own. It turns out that Harry is as slippery as butter (Literally! All those nights of grime and crust 'magically' slipperified his skin…) so, as such, he was very hard to…grasp. Blaise finally stopped his unsuccessful attempts and devised a new plan to get some action.

Harry and Blaise strolled out of Honeydukes with two pounds of Bertie Bott's "Romantically" Flavored Beans. They were, of course, being trailed by an ever-suspicious Draco.

"Harry, would you like a bean?"

"Would I ever!"

Blaise grinned and finally put his plan into action by placing a bean in his mouth. He then surreptitiously leaned over and placed his lips upon Harry's, passing the bean into Harry's mouth using his tongue.

_((A/N: "Finally!" you say, "some boy on boy action!" Tee hee.))_

"I only wanted the bean, not your tongue. Geez!" Harry stated in a very Kip-Dynamite-ish way. Blaise only grinned and Harry shifted uneasily. They walked in silence for a couple of minutes until Harry shoved a handful of the delectable morsels into his mouth and Blaise once again leaned into Harry's mouth. This time, however, he took one of the candies from Harry.

"If you had wanted a bean you should have just asked me!" Harry cried, thoroughly confused at Blaise's ways of eating. _It must be an Italian thing._

At this moment an infuriated Draco Malfoy sprinted up and forcefully yanked the two boys apart whilst saying things like "Stop! STOP! That is atrocious behavior and I won't have it!" and "Harry, what did you think you were doing, going out with him?" and one comment, said very softly to himself: "But Harry is… mine."

He pulled himself together and said, "Blaise, I think I need to have a talk with your date, if you don't mind, though I'm sure you do."

Blaise's eyes twinkled mischievously, and he nodded his head curtly and left.

Draco focused his attention back at Harry who was…_Wait, is he…crying?_

"Harry? Harry, are you crying? What's wrong?"

Harry wiped his overflowing eyes and said, "You…you called me…Harry."

Draco froze and ran over his thoughts, which were currently flying in every direction like hummingbirds on acid. He had, indeed, called him "Harry" four times. Harry's voice interrupted his thoughts as he said, "Don't be mad at Blaise, please, it was only an Italian thing. I didn't know that his eating habits would upset you oh so much."

Draco pulled Harry into an awkward one-armed hug, said, "There, there, love, I'm not _that_ mad at Blaise," wiped Harry's eyes, and scampered off like the skittish lil' ferret he is.

_((A/N M: Geez, that was sappy. Oh well, I LURVF it anyway (and I know you secretly did too)! ))_

Harry stood still for several minutes, as though rooted to the spot. When at last Harry got his shoes unstuck from the gum that he was standing in, he ran all the way back to the castle and hid in his "perfect" hiding place. However, he was rather dismayed when Ron drew back the curtains on his four-poster and told him to come down for dinner.

"How—what—how the bloody hell did you find me?" Harry spluttered in a very (well, at least to Ron) sexy way.

"Dear, you always hide in your bed, just like you always stash your mags between your mattresses," Ron said soothingly as he drew out several issues of _Elle Girl_ and _Vogue_ from Harry's bed.

"Hush! Put those away this instant!" Harry hissed. He grabbed said magazines from Ron's rather greasy, grubby hands and stuffed them roughly under his pillow, silently thanking Merlin that Ron had not discovered the latest issue of _Cosmopolitan_ that was lurking under his mattress. Ron tugged on his arm expectantly until Harry finally acquiesced. "Fine," he sighed heavily, "I'll go down to dinner. I have to be incognito though, ok?"

"Right-o! Here, wear this!" Ron shouted enthusiastically whilst he tossed some chain mail, a white tunic, a shield, and a sword and sheath at his friend. Harry fiercely scrutinized (with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips) the unfamiliar togs for a moment before donning them and charging out of the room. He swiped at random tapestries, stabbed arbitrary paintings, and made a swing at Mrs. Norris before Ron placed a hand on his shoulder and soothed, "Calm down, calm down. No need to get all worked up. Let's go down calmly."

"Right, right. Sorry, sorry 'bout that," Harry apologized to a potted plant that he had savagely brutalized. They walked down to the Great Hall and paused outside the doors.

"Hurry, Harry! Or else we might not get any mashed p's!"

"No! No, Ron, I must enter um…well…what was that word?"

"Dramatically, sir?"

"Yes! That's it! I must enter dramatically!"

And with that Harry grabbed a conveniently placed near-by vine, moon-walked backwards, and ran full force at the door, kicking it open and swinging inside as a hush fell over the crowd. _((A/N M: Hush…))_ Harry swung towards the teachers' table, then swung backwards towards the door like an overlarge, oddly shaped pendulum. Everyone stared at him quizzically until he came to a slow stop and spun wobblingly in place.

"Er, right," Harry mumbled, blushing profusely. "Um, could someone give me a push?" Everyone looked at one another, shrugged, and continued about their business. Harry muttered, "Right then. Fine," and dropped off the vine onto some second year Hufflepuff girls, who squealed and grabbed at his clothes. At this point, Ron came to his rescue by prying young Harry away and carrying him off (rather forcefully) to the Gryffindor table.

Harry pushed his food glumly around his plate. He looked across the Hall to see two pairs of eyes fixed firmly upon him, lust emanating from the violet set and a mixed, hard to place emotion coming from the silver pair. Harry assumed that it was anger, or contempt, and he bowed his head glumly.

Across the Hall, Draco sighed despondently. He was slightly disappointed that he had not been the first to kiss Harry, and he was also upset to see Harry upset. In addition, he was wondering why he was feeling so possessive of and attracted to his former archrival, but he surmised that perhaps he had been interpreting his feelings incorrectly. For Harry was handsome, fit, kind, caring, cutely naïve, humorous, intelligent, brave, loyal, strong, seductive, and, overall, totally fuc—

"He's über sexy and totally hawt, isn't he, Drake-cake?" a low voice purred in Draco's ear, interrupting his reverie. Blaise nudged Draco with his elbow and winked. "I want him for me…although I wouldn't mind sharing with you, love. You're fairly scrumptious yourself." Blaise licked his lips and appreciatively looked Draco up and down.

Draco scowled at Blaise and crossed his arms firmly over his chest. "No, no, NO!" he whispered harshly. "You are absolutely despicable. I can't believe what you did to Harry, and, worst of all, he _still_ believes that you were only trying to share jellybeans. He's convinced himself that it's just some _'Italian Thing,'_" Draco huffed.

"What's an Italian thing? Being utterly irresistible and charming?" Blaise laughed. Draco elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Ow, oh, okay. _That_. Come on, Drakey-pie, I couldn't resist." Blaise leaned in close to Draco's ear and whispered, "He's _quite_ the tasty treat, if you wanted to know." Blaise gracefully stood and exited the Hall, full of his usual sangfroid, leaving a fuming Draco at the table.

"Alright, that was too far. Zabini, THIS IS WAR!" Draco shouted, punching a fist dramatically into the air. When he realized the whole Hall was staring at him confusedly, he flashed his abs, smirked, and escaped amidst the squeals emitted from various students (and staff members).

Several hours later, a certain ticked-off Slytherin proudly held up a sheet of sparkling stationery, embossed with the initials "_D.L.M._" in fancy, loopy script, and crooned softly, "Yes, yes, my Italian friend. Revenge will be _sweet_. I'll teach you not to go after _my_ prey." Draco opened his bedside dresser drawer, shoved his assortment of ribbons and nail polish to the side, and gently laid the scented parchment in the drawer before snapping it shut. He reached over to flick off his feathery bedside lamp and snuggled deep under his plush, silk lined down comforter. _Tomorrow is a big day…I'll need all the sleep I can get._

Draco awoke early with a grin on his face, stretched cat-like, and basked in the glorious morning rays. He pulled off his sparkly eye-mask, snatched his Hello Kitty shower cap _((A/N M: In case you were wondering why he has all this Hello Kitty merchandise, it's because he _**is**_ a spokesperson for them))_ off of his sink counter, and turned on his shower. After a relaxing half-hour underneath his rainforest showerhead, Blondie dressed in a pair of his very best (read: tightest) jeans and pulled on a shrunken, light blue polo and matching sky-blue Converses.

Exactly 23.65 minutes later, when Draco had finished styling his hair and primping (not to mention examining his shapely tush in the mirror), he snuck down to the prefect's bathroom and expertly concealed himself behind a large, potted fern. Several minutes later, Blaise strolled in, wearing only purple silk pajama bottoms and carrying a fluffy towel over his shoulder. Draco grinned and pulled out his sparkly stationary. Step one read: _Sabotage the hair._ As Blaise leaned towards the mirror over the sink and ran his fingers through his hair, Draco waved his wand and whispered, "_Muto Caesariem Ostrinam._"

Blaise was nonchalantly humming to himself as he ran his fingers through his hair in the mirror. Suddenly, he felt a slight breeze run through his stylish locks, almost as though he had been hit by a whispered charm. He turned around suspiciously and looked about the room, but saw no one. Blaise shrugged and once again faced the mirror, only to find that his beautiful hair had been altered: he now had several shades of purple streaks accenting his dark hair. He gasped loudly. "OH EM GEEEEE!"

Draco sniggered smugly to himself in his suspiciously secluded spot. "What will you do now, dear Blaise?" he soliloquized. "No color goes with purple besides purple! And what _real_ man has that much purple clothing? BWAHAHAHA--" His laughing was cut short, however, as Blaise shrieked in delight and danced happily about _((A/N M: pronounced _a-bootin a circle.

"It's even more gorgeous than ever! And I brought my purple shirt with black pinstripes to wear anyway! Magnifico!"

"Damn," Draco muttered darkly and scurried away to brood on step two.

Several minutes later, as Draco hid underneath a standard Slytherin dorm bed, a pair of fine Italian loafers sauntered into the room and paused in front of a dresser. Draco peeked out from his hiding place to see Blaise preening in front of the mirror – again. Draco sighed and read step two on his list: _Darken his brilliant smile_. Draco smirked, aimed his wand carefully, and whispered, "_Fusco dentes._" Unfortunately for Draco, the spell ricocheted off the mirror at a different angle than what he had calculated _((A/N E: **clearly**__Draco forgot to study the law of reflection))_ and hit Blaise on the cheek. From there, a warm, sun-browned glow spread over the Italian boy's already golden skin, making him look even more like a tan god of the Mediterranean sun.

Blaise quirked an eyebrow interestedly at this new change, shrugged, and sighed happily, "Ah, _perfecto_, fate smiles upon me today. I'm getting more splendiferous by the minute."

Draco bit his lip to keep himself from crying out in frustration. _Damn, damn, damn it all to bloody hell!_ He continued to curse inwardly for several minutes, then composed himself and sighed. _Well, I guess I'll just have to make him pale, then. Ah, that shan't be too difficult._ Draco readied his wand once more and muttered, "_Fulgeo cutem._"

However, Draco is, indeed, quite blonde, so he forgot that his spells were bouncing off of the mirror at different angles. This spell conveniently hit Blaise's smile as he was grinning broadly at his reflection, so the bright jet struck his already shiny teeth. His pearly whites became almost incandescent and seemed to glow with a radiance to rival the great solar orb itself. Blaise chuckled happily and purred, "If I get any more beautiful, half the school may faint from the aesthetic overload on their eyes." Blaise spritzed some cologne on his wrists, took one last look in the mirror, and strode happily out of the room.

Draco crawled out from under the bed and cursed violently. He kicked several rugs and chairs and thoroughly beat Crabbe's favorite pillow. Then he stopped, smoothed down his hair, straightened out his shirt, and walked composedly out of the room. Several minutes later, upon entering the Great Hall, he spotted his victim casually sprinkling sugar on half of a grapefruit. Over half of the students were staring at him in awe, and he smirked smugly to himself at this attention.

Draco smiled slyly like a crocodile that has just caught sight of a rather plump flamingo. _Let him enjoy the attention for a brief moment, it will be returned to me shortly. _He sat down near the end of the table and discreetly withdrew his master plan for the day. Step three read: _Humiliate him with sparkles. _Draco grinned gleefully and giggled, "Maybe I'll get some in his eyes…serves him right…" He discreetly pointed his wand at the laughing Italian boy and whispered, "_Scintille_." However, at this moment, Blaise blinked and the iridescent sparkles landed neatly on the rim of his eyelids. Draco cursed. Today was definitely not his lucky day. Over the course of breakfast, he cast several more spells, which only resulted in making Blaise even more and more _bello. _Slightly put out, he gulped down the last of his Lucky Charms and set off for the library to find some more spells before class.

"Well hello there, my green-eyed LUUUUURVE god," a voice sensuously purred in Harry's right ear as he exited the Great Hall.

Harry jumped several inches, startled by the low voice and warm tickle of breath on his earlobe. He turned to find Blaise smiling slyly at him, looking more gorgeous than ever before. "Er, uh, h-h-hi B-blaise," Harry squeaked. "Um, um, you look, well, er, different somehow…" Harry stared at his shoes and shuffled them nervously on the floor. At length, he straightened up and asked curiously, "Did you acquire a hair-chop? Or get in a fight with a purple lawnmower and lose?"

Blaise laughed softly and put an arm around Harry in what he obviously thought was a comforting gesture. "No, you diabolical fool! I mean – you always were a funny one, Hare-bear. Tell me, honestly, love, this naivety thing…is it really just an act?"

"Wot?" Harry asked puzzledly.

Blaise's smile faded slightly. "Um," he muttered. He stared off into space doubtfully for a moment until Harry began to squirm slightly away from Blaise's arm. Blaise chuckled softly. "Really now, you'll kiss me but flinch away when I put my arm around your shoulder? You so silly _((A/N: pronounced "see-lee"))_." Blaise grinned and drew Harry into a tight hug.

Harry shoved himself away and shot Blaise a puzzled look. "Kissed you?" he asked. "What? I don't kiss on the first date…you must be mistaking me for someone else, or something. I never kissed you." Blaise covered his face with his hand in despair. Harry mistook this gesture as confusion and patted Blaise gently on the rump. "There, there," he soothed, "it's ok, Ol' Bushy Hair recently explained this to me. You see, those things that happen while you sleep don't really happen in real life. She says they're called dreams, and I know how you must feel. I mean, for the longest time, I thought that my nighttime escapades of fighting crime in fluorescent spandex panties were real. It's quite an understandable misunderstanding."

Blaise stared incredulously at the bespectacled object of his affection. At length, he laughed and threw up his hands in a "whatever" sort of gesture. Noticing that Harry was still comfortingly patting his rear, he smirked and asked, "You like that, then?" Harry blushed and withdrew his hand. Blaise captured Harry by the wrists and pinned him up against the corridor wall. He brought his lips close to Harry's and whispered lustily, "So, I haven't kissed you, eh? Well, my elusive, scrumptious, slightly ignorant treat, does that make this a dream?" With that, Blaise closed the distance between his lips and Potter's.

Harry's eyes opened wide with shock. Startled, he attempted to wriggle away from the Italian Stallion. When Harry's plan of doing an impression of a wiggle worm with indigestion finally paid off, he ducked down and scurried between Blaise's legs to get away from the wall. Blaise grinned and advanced upon the green-eyed boy, but young Harold, not wanting to be fooled again, crossed his arms protectively over his face.

"I thought it was just an Italian Thing!" he wailed in dismay. "I thought you just wanted a bean!" Harry suddenly threw his arms away from his face, stood akimbo, and glared at Blaise like a toddler who has been told that it's time for bed. "Just because you're sexy and you have a gorgeous-o tan and suddenly grow more spectacular by the minute gives you no right to up and _kiss_ me like that!" Harry turned with a gasped, "Oh my geez!" and ran down the corridor towards his next class.

Blaise scratched his head puzzledly and shrugged. "Ah, well," he said with a sigh, "I can still snatch him back." Blaise pumped a fist triumphantly in the air and exclaimed, "The chase begins!"

Draco, being the sneaky little ferret that he is, had watched this entire scene with interest from behind a near-by tapestry. As both brunette teens exited the corridor, Draco tapped his forehead thoughtfully with a slender forefinger. "Hmm," he muttered, "so Harry likes tans then? This may prove useful…" With this, a thoughtful Draco ambled to class, striding proudly as though he had just won the Miss – er – _Mister_ Hawaiian Tropics Pageant.

* * *

A/N: again, we are truly, _truly _sorry about the extra long wait. we love you guys oh so much! sadly, however, chapter 8 may take a while, for we are very busy with swimming this summer...but we have it all planned out! until next times, lovelies!

oh, and the latin...

_Muto Caesariem Ostrinam_ literally means "(I) change hair purple."

_Fusco dentes --_ "(I) darken teeth."

_Fulgeo cutem_ -- "(I) lighten skin."

_Scintille_ -- "(You) sparkle!" (command form, understood subject...not like they reallyregularly usedpersonal pronouns in latin anyway...)

TA TA FOR NOW, _notre beaux amis! Ciao bella!_


	8. Chapter 8: P0z0rz Galorez0rz

**Disclaimer: **_If you think we own Harry Potter, you're a loony. And a crackbaby. And you must give us tons of moohlah._

**A/N:** _Holy Christflakes! We're alive! Gosh golly gee willikers. Here is your long awaited chapter eight, and it is our longest chapter yet! Enjoy, pretties!_

_Snoogles and schmuzzlumps, Michi and Elizarita_

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**Harry Potter and the 'Magical' Muffin Mischief**

Chapter 8:_ P0z0rz Galore-z0rz_

Draco Malfoy is actually a rather patient person. However, when squirming excitedly in his desk while waiting for the lunch bell to ring, it is very easy to mistake him as impatient. One must be wary of these slight details that may seem to support falsehoods. Even as the Slytherin Prince runs like mad to his private rooms as soon as the bell rings, knocking small children out of the way and cackling gleefully, he still retains all the poise and grace that good breeding have brought him.

Panting heavily and sweat—er—glowing (a Malfoy _never_ sweats) from his exertion, Blondie skidded to a halt in front of his guarding portrait and blurted out his French rather vigorously between gasps. He skipped gaily (ha ha…gay) inside, locked his door, and dove onto his plush bed. After rolling about for several minutes and giggling like a regular PPSG _((A/N: **P**re-**P**ubescent** S**chool**G**irl, obviously))_, Draco abruptly sat up, smoothed down his hair and shirt, and extricated his wand from his pocket. Rolling up the sleeves of his school robes, he faced his mirror and smirked. "Right," he whispered, "let's do this. Prepare yourself, Hogwarts!"

-----

Harry glumly munched on his peanut butter-chococheese-syrup-marshmallow sandwich. He cast surreptitious glances towards the Slytherin table, but the object of his affection was not present. Harry sighed despondently and laid his head in his hands. Ron, spotting his opportunity, deftly snagged the remnant of Harry's discarded sandwich and stuffed it greedily into his mouth. He then turned towards his dejected companion and asked through a mouthful of decidedly sticky sandwich, "Whassa matta, Hahwe? 'Oo alwigh'?"

Harry wiped clumps of peanut butter and cheese off of his cheek and replied, with a heavy sigh, "Yeah, Ron, I'm fine." Ron looked at him quizzically for a moment before turning his attention towards stacking his tots in a pyramid, Pedro-style.

"Hey guys," a cheerful voice chirped from across the table. Harry looked up from his plate and stared. Ron happened to glance up while placing the final tot on his stack. His hand shook and he toppled his whole fried potato edifice.

Neither of the boys spoke for several minutes. Finally, Harry gathered enough of his wits back to stammer, "H-h-hermione? Wot? Er-um-what h-happened?"

Hermione smiled and flipped her straightened and smoothed hair. "Oh, nothing, I just felt like looking nice this afternoon, that's all."

"Hermione, are you wearing _make-up_?" Ron whispered.

"Yeah, is that my eyeliner?" Harry demanded. Ron threw him a scandalized look _((A/N: CATCH!)) _and Harry quickly blurted, "Uh, um, I mean…you see, what I meant to say was…er…that eye make-up really makes your big peepers pop." Harry blushed and looked down at his plate.

Ron looked incredulously at Harry for a moment before turning once more to Hermione, who had taken a seat across from the two of them and was helping herself to some chicken salad. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and said, "So, um. Any reason you felt like looking extra special this afternoon?" Hermione merely smiled slyly and shook her head. Ron gulped, and a lovely flush spread across his cheeks, contrasting hideously with his hair.

"Well, that's a relief then," Harry interjected. "Silly me. I was afraid that it might be more than coincidence that you did this right before Potions since I saw you reading that book for insufferable know-it-all's about how to make the potions master fall in lov—"

"_Silencio_!" Hermione screeched. Harry immediately silenced, although he continued to mouth out words. Hermione blushed slightly, grabbed an apple, and with a courteous, albeit clipped, "See you in class," rushed out of the Hall.

"What was that about, eh?" Ron asked Harry after having stared after Hermione's exit. She had left her school robes open and, since her exit was fairly quick (she had almost sprinted out the door), they flapped up behind her, making it painfully obvious that she had clearly hiked up her skirt several inches. Ron swore that she was wearing a lacy garter on her left thigh.

Harry tried to say something; clearly he had already forgotten that he had just been silenced. After several failed attempts, he simply shook his head and shrugged.

"What's that, mate? Did your voice give out? Sorry about that…Madame Pomfrey might have something for you," Ron said sympathetically, patting his friend lightly on the shoulder. It seemed that he had also forgotten about Harry's wordless state. Harry sighed (soundlessly) and slumped forward onto the table.

-----

When the pair finally made their way down to the dungeons to wait outside the classroom door, they found Hermione nervously smoothing her hair and checking herself every few seconds in a compact mirror. She kindly un-silenced Harry before the doors opened and the students took their seats. Harry sat next to an empty chair; his assigned partner was not present and Harry was slightly worried. _What if something happened to Draco? He wasn't at lunch and now he's missing **Potions**. Something must be seriously wrong...maybe he was attacked by feral parakeets...or dirty gym socks...oh dear..._

Draco's absence did not go unnoticed by Professor Snape, although he did fail to notice his "favorite" know-it-all batting her heavily-caked-with-mascara eyelashes at him _((A/N: Fun fact: in the 60s, fluttering one's eyelashes at someone was called "giving him/her the hairy eyeball"))_. After writing the lesson's instructions on the board, he turned to scan the classroom and noticed the empty seat immediately. "Has anyone seen Draco Malfoy?" he asked the class with, if possible, a tiny hint of concern in his voice. No one answered him, so he sat down and scribbled something on a bit of parchment. "Zabini," he called when he had finished, "here is a pass, go check his chambers to see if he is there." Blaise swaggered smarmily up to the desk, subtly pinching Harry's tush on the way up and eliciting a satisfying squeak from the bespectacled boy. Blaise threw a wink over his shoulder at Harry, who blushed a most charming shade of fuchsia. Blaise was about to take the note from Snape when the large doors to the classroom flew open loudly. The entire class turned around and gaped. There were quite a few crashes as students dropped glassware, and several things toppled off of Snape's desk as he stood swiftly.

In the doorway stood a very blonde, very tan figure dressed in an impeccably crisp uniform bearing the Slytherin crest.

(Somewhere, miles away and sitting in a secluded spot at his computer, a strapping young lad that some call Thomas fainted, fell heavily out of his computer chair, cracked his head open on the floor, and died. He was promptly buried in a pair of his sister's jeans and hobo gloves. Michelle cried at his funeral.)

"LIEK OH EM GEE!" screamed Snape, as one from the warm waters of the PPSG. "Is that _FABIO_! Oh, Mr. Fabio, I'm your biggest fan! Do you have any tips for me? Like, am I a summer or a winter? And I was wondering about my hair…" Snape twittered and dithered on excessively for several moments before casually stuttering into an awed silence. He looked slightly sweaty and was twitching his fingers ever so slightly.

"No, Severus, it is just the Magnificent Malfoy," declared Draco dearest in a very masculine voice. Neville almost—wait, no, _did_—wet himself from sheer enchantment.

"Oh, um… right. Mr. Darling Marvelous—I mean, Draco Malfoy, please take your seat. Here. Right up front. Just centimeters from my desk where I can stroke your long, glorious hai—um…tee hee?" Snape finished this mess-up rather well in Harry's opinion; he wished that his slip-ups could be handled oh so _suave_ly.

Draco smiled (Pansy, Lavender, and Seamus all keeled over onto the floor with comically loud thuds) and slid in next to Harry. Harry gulped audibly and fidgeted with his glasses until Snape finally regained his senses and began class.

"Hello, Hare-bear," Malfoy purred in his deliciously macho voice.

"Um… H-h-hey, Hawt-Stuff," Hare-bear blurted out. Blaise looked considerably put-out.

Hawt-Stuff smiled slyly. _Yesssssss, everything is going to plan._

Not even the winds mysteriously blowing in and out of Blaise's purple locks (…yet another thing Draco tried to destroy Blaise with. _How can he see where he's going if his hair is blowing about? _All the winds did, however, was make it seem as though Blaise's hair was so _bello_ that it actually looked like what the products in Harry's "zines" advertised. When Draco tried to summon them back, the winds decided they liked blowing about Blaise's delectable face, and, gosh darn-it, they were going to stay there!) could distract the Hogwarts population from Draco's charming new appearance. During that day, he witnessed thirty-seven freak faintings, twelve pants-wettings, five unexplainable choking attacks, and two disappointed, autograph-craving professors.

Blaise slumped down moodily next to the glowing Draco at dinner. Not much eating was going on that night, as most of the school sat gazing at the Magnificent Malfoy and sighing gleefully. Blaise was thoroughly annoyed that Draco seemed to be enjoying every second of it, and when the Italian boy happened to glance up at the Gryffindor table and spot a pair of gorgeous green eyes gazing reverently upon Draco, he snapped.

"Look, just because I all of a sudden turn absolutely _bello_ gives you no right to go tan and change your voice and such," Blaise whispered furiously to the blonde next to him. "I don't know why you're doing this, but it has to stop. You're baiting _my_ prey."

Draco turned to his Italian companion and smiled broadly. "Precisely," he whispered. Blaise opened his mouth in shock and raised his eyebrows, then turned an extremely annoyed look on Draco and scooted away from him.

"Oh, Drakey-pie, you don't know what you've just done…" Blaise crooned softly as he absently prodded his banana pudding. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into…"

Actually, Drakey-pie really didn't have a clue, for little did he know that all beings with even an ounce of common sense have always feared the wrath of an Italian Stallion. Even Crabbe and Goyle squirmed in their seats a little.

"Vincent, he's talking to the dessert _again_. We best get a move on before the cheese course!"

"Right you are, ol' chap!" And with that, Crabbe and Goyle skedaddled to their quarters like two amazing, bouncing ferrets on a warm summer's day chasing after a waft of meat on the breeze.

-----

Harry swallowed the last of his juice and glanced over at Ron, who was still eating enthusiastically. Harry gave a very loud, fake sigh and stretched, then excused himself from dinner. But dear Master Potter was not fatigued in the least. Actually, he needed to get away from the table because his fork seemed to keep missing his mouth since he could not turn his eyes away from the fabulously tan Draco. Indeed, as he made his way out of the Hall, he ran into several (read: around forty-two) people and the door (twice) because his attention was diverted by the Slytherin Fabio-look-a-like.

Draco noticed the abrupt departure of his bespectacled quarry and decided to act quickly. He blew a kiss to the grumbling Blaise, stood, winked at several people, and exited the Hall quickly, yet gracefully, to the sound of sighs, whistles, and muffled thumps.

Harry had just entered a secret passageway behind a tapestry on the third floor when he felt something grab at the back of his robes. He fell backwards rather gracelessly like a hippo attempting to do a pirouette and landed upon a decidedly soft, warm, good smelling lump. Harry blinked stupidly for a moment, wondering why this lump had grabbed him and also why it was wearing Draco's cologne and clothes. He sat for a good two and a half minutes pondering this quandary until the lump groaned, "Ow. Mind getting off me, Potter?"

Harry jumped back, startled, and watched Draco Malfoy sit up and brush his robes off while muttering, "Wow. I never thought I'd utter those words…"

"D-d-d-draco—er—Blondie! What do you think you're doing, trying to steal my robes! How odd! I mean, really!" Harry exclaimed, shifting rapidly from awed to indignant to scandalized to patronizing all in the course of one hideous jumble of phrases. He made a perturbed "tsk" noise and added a considerably drawn-out "Jeeeeeeez" for effect.

Draco rolled his eyes, then turned and smiled slyly at Harry. Harry gulped. He felt rather like a sumptuously plump gazelle that had just stumbled upon a ravenous leopard in the tall Serengeti grass. He slid backwards slightly across the passageway floor until he felt his back press against the hard stone wall. Draco crawled towards him on all fours and stopped until his face was only inches from Harry's. Harry felt completely and utterly trapped.

Draco let out a soft chuckle and whispered, "Well, fancy meeting _you_ here, _Harry_." He leaned in slowly, yet, unfortunately, Harry slid to the side and thudded heavily against the floor. The mixture of tan "Fabio" Draco leaning in towards him and the sound of his name being uttered so hawtly was apparently too much for him to handle, and so, as a result, he fainted.

Draco sat back on his heels and scowled. _Stupid Potter. I was so, so close this time!_ Draco sat back against the wall opposite Harry and pouted, folding his arms tightly across his chest and jutting out his bottom lip. However, as he gazed upon the limp, drooling form of Boy Wonder in front of him, his expression softened a little. _How could I even _dream_ of being annoyed at a face like that?_

"_You DRUGGED him!_" came a shocked voice from behind Draco.

Draco started at the sudden sound from the intruder and quickly spun around to find a startled Blaise, one hand covering his open-mouthed "o" of astonishment.

"No, no, Blaise, you silly Italian, this isn't what it looks—"

"I can't believe you!" Blaise cried shrilly. He ranted loudly in Italian for the next three minutes and seventeen seconds before returning to English. "This is so utterly _unfair_! Look, I know you like Harry too, and I know you wanted a taste when I told you how überly scrumptious he is, but _this_…this is too much! _And_ I bet this is all some part of your plan to take him to the Halloween dance too, isn't it! And I've _never_—"

This time it was Draco's turn to interrupt. He held up a delicately manicured hand and asked quickly, "Wait, wait. What? Halloween dance? I haven't heard about this…"

Blaise tossed his luscious locks impatiently. "Ohhh, that's right," he said sardonically, "you were in too big of a hurry tonight to hear the old coot's announcement. Let me explain." He gave Draco a sickeningly, sarcastically sweet smile as he took him by the hand and dragged him away towards the dungeons. "I want a fair shot at asking him, too, so you're coming with me." Harry was left on the floor in the middle of the hidden hallway.

Five minutes later, several floors lower, and after much yelling (with both French and Italian peppered into the English discourse), both Slytherin sex gods had drawn their wands and were assuming dueling stances on either side of the wide corridor leading towards the dungeons. Each glared at the other from under perfectly plucked eyebrows and looked on the point of exploding when Professor Snape happened to saunter around the corner, cape billowing out fantastically behind him and hair flipping beautifully as he shook his hips seductively. He paused for a moment to survey the scene before languidly drawling, "_Expelliarmus_."

He caught the oncoming wands with ease as both Drake-cake and Blaise-pie turned their glares upon their favorite Potions Master. Snape pocketed the wands and said, "We simply cannot have two of the best-looking students in this school attempting to maul each other. That would leave Potter as the only eye-candy for me to gaze upon while teaching potio—" Snape trailed off as Blaise and Draco eyed him quizzically before glancing around nervously and walking away. "You may reclaim your wands from me tomorrow," he called over his shoulder to the boys behind him.

Draco glanced questioningly at his Italian compadre. Blaise shrugged. They awkwardly shuffled about for a moment before Blaise spoke. "We need to make a deal," he said.

"Fair enough," answered Draco. "But first, enlighten me on this whole dance thing. I'm intrigued."

"Well, soon after you left, Dumbledore announced that there will be a Halloween dance this year for the upper three years. Dressing in costumes is required, and there will be two singles contests, male and female, and a couples contest for the best costumes with 'impressive 'magical' remunerations,' in the words of the barmy codger himself."

Draco savored this new bit of information for a moment as a young child savors his first Fluffy Puff Malloween Marshmallow before responding, "Fair enough. So, what are the terms of your truce, Zabini?"

Blaise pondered for a moment, then rejoined his fair-haired friend. "We both ask Harry to the dance at the same time, explaining to him that he may accept the invitation from whichever one of us he chooses. We will give him a week to make his decision, and during that week we may bestow whatever gifts and attentions upon him that we like." Blaise looked very pleased with his plan.

Draco looked nonplussed. "That's it?" he asked disdainfully.

Blaise smirked. "Yes. And may the best Italian win." Draco rolled his eyes. Blaise snuck a hand around Draco's newly-tanned shoulders and gently led him back in the direction from whence they had just come. "Let's explain our deal to Harry so he may begin mulling over his decision."

Draco smiled smugly to himself. _Fool. No one can out-do a Malfoy in the subtle art of seduction. Bring it, my Italian friend._

Blaise smiled smugly to himself. _Fool. No one can out-do an Italian in the subtle art of seduction. Bring it, my Fabio-like friend._

-----

Harry came-to when he felt an odd tickling sensation at his feet. He looked down to find Dobby pulling off his shoes. "Oi!" he yelled in annoyance. Dobby started and looked up, frightened, at a tousled and bleary-eyed Master Potter. He squeaked, hastily pulled off Harry's sock, and took off down the hallway. "Rape! RAPE! Fire, thief, RAPE!" yelled Harry, sprinting wobblingly after the house-elf like a rather ungainly newborn foal.

Draco and Blaise felt an odd sensation between their ankles. They looked down and, finding nothing, glanced behind them to see a house-elf hurtling down the corridor at break-neck speed, clutching a rather gnarly sock in its hand.

Draco and Blaise glanced at one another, shrugged, and faced forward just in time to see Harry Potter coming straight for them. Eighteen hundredths of a second later, the three collided and landed sprawled on the floor in a rather compromising tangle of limbs.

Blaise laughed. "See, Draco, I told you a threesome would be possible. If we just arrange ourselves like this and ---"

"Oh, _do_ be quiet, Blaise!" Draco sighed in exasperation while untangling himself from the two others with all the dignity he could muster.

Harry looked at Draco, then glanced at Blaise, who was eyeing him hungrily. He scooted away from the Italian, adjusted his spectacles, and said "Well, what's all this, then?" in an overly casual voice which indicated that he was desperately trying to play off the fact that he had run into them in the first place.

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. Blaise let out a small laugh and scooted closer to Harry. Putting his arm nonchalantly around a slightly jumpy and suspicious Harry, he said silkily, "Well, well, welllll…just the person Draco and I were hoping to run into, isn't it, Drakey-pie?"

Draco rolled his eyes (again) and said, through gritted teeth, "Quite. Could you get your arm _off_ of Harry, _Blaise, **dear**_?" Blaise's face fell and he reluctantly drew back.

There was a rather awkward silence for several moments. Draco sighed in annoyance and examined his chipping manicure. Blaise folded his arms and pouted, lower lip jutting forward fantastically. Harry sat and examined the ceiling, scratching his head and littering the floor around him with bits of old food and crumbs. At last, comprehension seemed to dawn on him, and, as eloquently as a toddler with a mouthful of peanut butter, Potter exclaimed, "Me! Run into! Haha! Yes, understand about you and then and me." He smiled up at Draco, looking quite pleased with himself.

"What?" Draco and Blaise asked, thoroughly confused.

"Sillies. I just figured out that _I'm _theone you ran into, so you were looking for me!" He flashed a toothy grin in pride. Draco and Blaise shared a look, then shrugged.

"Erm, yes, Ha—I mean—Potter, we were looking for you," Draco responded suavely. "We have a proposition for you."

Here Blaise nudged Harry and, with a wink, whispered (loudly), "Heh. I'll give you a proposition you can't refuse!" Harry looked confused and Blaise smiled smugly.

"A-_hem_," Draco cleared his throat in an agitated, girly sort of way before continuing. "So, here's the nub and thrust of the matter. As you may or may not know, there is going to be a costumed Halloween dance for—"

"A COSTUMED DANCE!" Harry looked positively enraptured. One could almost see his pupils morphing into little hearts.

"Yes, yes," Blaise cooed, patting the twitching, bouncing, bespectacled brunette's cranium soothingly. "So, this is the big question…" Blaise held up his fingers and counted _three…two…one…_

"Harry Potter, will you go to the dance with me?" Blaise and Draco chanted in unison.

Harry stared at them both for a moment. He seemed torn… (well, that's a bit of an understatement). Harry was trembling, glancing from one boy to the other so much that he looked like some odd, life-size bobble-head, as he bit his bottom lip and wrung his hands, which were sweating profusely. _How can I choose between the Gracious Italian Giver of Man-Bags and Mr. Darling Marvelous—er—Draco?_

"Now, now, you don't need to fret. You don't have to decide to pick me right now," Blaise laughed.

"No, you don't have to tell me that you're bringing me until the day before," Draco added.

"Well, farewell. I'll leave you to your decision," Blaise said, leaning over to hug Harry so that he could surreptitiously whisper, "Pick me, Harry, dear, and I'll make it a night to remember!" in Harry dear's ear.

As Blaise sauntered away, Draco shuffled his feet a bit, nervously looking anywhere but Potter. Finally, he looked down at the boy on the floor, smiled anxiously, and squeaked, "Well, I best be going to bed." He laughed nervously, pulled Harry into an awkward hug, and whispered, "Make the decision that will make _you_ happy, Harry." Planting a quick peck on Harry's cheek, Malfoy blushed and scuttled away quickly, albeit spastically and sporadically.

Harry sat alone on the floor, touching the spot on his cheek where Draco had kissed him and musing to himself. He soon grew weary and, being too lazy to return to the Tower, simply curled up right there on the floor and went to sleep.

-----

"Dennis, is it alive?"

"I'm not quite sure, Colin."

"No, look, it's breathing!"

Dennis and Colin Creevey had come across the slumbering Harold on their daily 3 A.M. walk. They rolled the grumbling mass over to find their dear friend.

"Dennis, it's Harry! What a perfect opportunity to use him as a male model!"

"Oh, Colin, you are too clever! _(Insert gay hand-flip here)_ Let's take him to our secret studio!"

Harry awoke to find himself seated promiscuously on a sparkly, lavender satin-draped crate in Snape's potion storeroom wearing only a scandalously short plaid skirt, rainbow-striped suspenders, Frank-N-Furter pumps, and a rather fashionable mop bucket perched atop numerous pigtails on his head.

"Wow, that must have been some party last night," he mused until he recognized the two other figures in the room. Colin was energetically snapping pictures of him, and Dennis tottered about shining a large purple spotlight on him.

"Harry, you naughty little monkey, you're awake!" Colin exclaimed. Indeed, Harry had woken up to his second worst nightmare (the first had been the time Ron decided to try on his rather flamboyant and risqué-ly cut lederhosen for midnight yodeling with Mrs. Norris).

Meanwhile, Draco and Blaise were, at this very moment, sauntering by the storeroom, arms linked, looking quite put-out at being together.

_---Flashback time, yo---_

At 3:54 A.M. exactly, Draco leaned over to turn off his 'magical' alarm after having pressed the snooze button six times. He freshened up (yet still tried to maintain that sexy, just-woke-up-and-rolled-out-of-bed-at-four-in-the-morning look), donned his robe and slippers, and slipped stealthily into the quiet corridor outside his chambers.

Several steps later, Draco found himself roughly tackled to the ground from behind by someone a hairsbreadth taller and rather good-smelling. He made to scream—er, no, yell, and _not_ at all like a little girl—but a soft, smooth hand was covering his mouth.

"MMMPHSHPHHH!" he attempted, but to no avail.

"Shhh," an all-too-familiar voice whispered in his ear.

"Mbphzz? Ngh mphh mh, nhh pftth!" Draco began squirming violently under his captor, whom he had correctly identified as Mbphzz—er—Blaise.

Blaise responded softly, "I'll take my hand off if you promise to be quiet." Draco nodded fervently and Blaise graciously withdrew his hand.

"Blaise, _what_ in the name of _bleeding hell_ do you—"

"Hush. Sh," Blaise interrupted. The two boys sat in awkward silence for several moments before Blaise asked conversationally, "So, what are you doing up this early?"

Draco blushed slightly, thanking Merlin that the halls were rather poorly lit. "Ah, well, you see…" he trailed off. Blaise looked at him quizzically. "Um, it's not early at all," scoffed Draco. "I'm merely taking my morning stroll through the halls and have no intention whatsoever of going to check on Har—er—Potter in that secret passageway on the third floor."

Blaise smirked at Draco before silkily replying, "Well, I have the same goal as you. And I have _no_ intention _at all_ to check on Harry either, so maybe we should _take our stroll together_ and see where our feet just _happen_ to lead us." With that, he looped arms with Draco and started to strut down the corridor.

_---End flashback… peace out---_

When they reached the door to Snape's private quarters, the Slytherin twosome was rather shocked to see Hermione Granger tiptoe out of the door, giggling madly and wearing a translucent babydoll lingerie ensemble under a _very_ familiar black cloak.

"Granger? The hell?" Draco managed to splutter.

Hermione blushed splotchily under her smeared mascara and hideous body glitter as she quickly thought up a lame anecdote to distract the boys.

"Well, I, um, was just going to Snape for some, er, modeling tips. You know, since he's such a fantastic model and all now."

"Well, why are you wearing his cloak? It's _sooo_ last season," Fashionista-Extraordinaire Blaise Zabini countered.

"It…was…chilly? Um, tee-hee?" Hermione gave them the hairy eyeball in, what she thought was, a very charming manner before scurrying off, a faint scent of oddly familiar aftershave trailing behind her.

Minutes later as the slightly shaken Draco-and-Blaise set passed the door of the storeroom, someone hurtled out suddenly, toppling the three of them. The offending someone squeaked in fright and attempted to get away quickly, but painfully discovered that his suspenders had become entangled with the tie on Draco's robe.

"Erm," said a rather sheepish, blushing Harry.

Blaise smirked. "My, aren't you fashionable this morning, my treacle-y treat?"

Draco said nothing; he merely quirked an eyebrow at Potter's odd togs. Harry's blush deepened several shades. Harry sprinted away, holding down the back of his miniscule skirt so as to retain the few shreds of dignity he still had, which were as scarce as Ron's chest hairs (he had three, thank you very much, of which he was very proud).

Draco and Blaise shrugged and turned their separate ways; Blaise to his secret, 'magical' spa, and Draco to his bedroom.

Draco entered his bedroom, yawning gracefully, and kicked off his fluffy slippers. He made his way over to his large bed and was in the process of hanging his robe on one of the posts when he happened to glance at an unusually large bump in his usually pristinely made Hello Kitty bed. It was quivering and jiggling and giggling and _very_ green. Draco quirked an eyebrow and softly prodded the lump, eliciting a muffled, high-pitched "Teee-heeee" from the alien object.

"Potter?" Draco queried.

"Tee-hee. No, sorry, Blondie, no one's here except for, um, pillows and, er, talking bed…thingies, but you can leave a message after the beep. BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—"

"Potter, quit your obnoxious sound effects!" Blondie screeched.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE _(Insert pause for loud, gasping breath)_ EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!"

At this point, Blondie was quite fed-up, so he furiously yanked his covers off of the lump to reveal Harry curled up and contorted like a pretzel, his skirt riding up precariously and promiscuously to reveal his 'magical' Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles briefs. Michelangelo and Raphael grinned cheekily at Draco as Leonardo scarfed down an entire pizza and Donatello practiced his sweet bow staff skills.

Harry peered up embarrassedly at Draco from under one of his legs. He waggled his pinky in a nervous wave (à la Angel from _RENT_) and stuttered "Oh—er—D-d-dr-drac-co, uh, um, huh, h-how n-n-nice of you t-to drop-p in…"

Draco was about to make a scathingly witty remark, but was cut off by a rather large yawn. It was, after all, only several minutes past four.

Harry spluttered embarrassedly as Blondie clambered under the covers next to him. "Oh, shut it and scoot, Potter," Draco told him through a yawn. "I'll deal with you once I've had some sleep." They were both asleep within minutes, Draco murmuring softly to himself and Harry snoring and grumbling rather loudly.

-----

Draco awoke to an acrid, burning smell assaulting his delicate nostrils. He rolled over and blinked blearily to find Potter, decked out in a frilly apron and overlarge chef hat, attempting to shove a ridiculously huge quantity of doughy something (which looked as though it contained several socks, Blaise's shampoo, some feathers, and Hagrid's heinous spotted tie) into his beloved Barbie Easy-Bake Oven.

Draco shot up immediately as the full magnitude of the situation biotch-slapped him hard in the face. "Potter…" he growled feral-ly.

Potter turned around to smile sweetly at the blonde. "Morning, Cupcake, I'm making you cupcakes." He giggled at his, um, witty remark and returned to jamming his creation into the oven.

Draco tackled him, knocking him away from his precious oven. He pointed to a half-finished jigsaw puzzle in the corner. "What's this? Why didn't you finish it?"

"Oh, Draaaaaco, I was bored!" Harry whined.

Draco shoved him over to it and said sternly, "Finish your jigsaw, Potter, _then_ we'll talk." Harry pouted and resumed reassembling the 5,000 piece 'magical' jumbo puzzle. It was considerably harder than a normal puzzle since the picture decided that it liked moving about as a normal wizarding picture would, so Harry was having a bit of difficulty.

Draco watched the struggling Potter for a minute with interest. _Odd…he sticks out his tongue when he concentrates…_ He turned back to his oven and, with a wave of his wand, it was oh so clean and sparkly. Draco's glance then happened to land upon a large basket under the window, slightly obscured by a shimmering curtain. He pulled the curtain to the side to unveil a veritable mountain of his cellophane-wrapped wares. _I had almost forgotten about these!_ He poked one of the muffins and found that it was rather hard. Additionally, some of the muffins had oddly colored mold growing on them. _Ew ew ooooer…these have gone bad…I best dispose of them and make a fresh batch._ Checking to make sure that Scarhead was intently focused upon his puzzle, he dumped the gnarly muffins out of the window.

Now, the windows in Draco's chamber did not really lead outside, as his rooms were located in the general area of the dungeons. Instead, they were charmed to look like the windows several floors above which overlooked a charming little courtyard on the other side of the castle. Anything dropped out of his "windows", oddly enough, fell out of these windows. So, this is how Draco's stale creations happened to land on a rather pensive Ron, who was at this very moment pacing said courtyard in the pre-dawn light.

"Alas!" screeched Ron, "A shower of muffins!" The muffins pelted him quite hard, and he landed gracelessly in a mighty fine shrubbery.


	9. Chapter 9: Chatroom Chaos

**A/N: **hi-o, all. wow. it's been a long, long, long time since we've uploaded. er, think of it as a late x-mas present.

Luuuurrrrrve, Michi et Elizarita

**Disclaimer:** yes, of course, we have more money than the Queen and we write stupid parodies of our own highly successful childrens' book. perfectly logical!

**

* * *

Harry Potter and the 'Magical' Muffin Mischief**

Chapter 9:_ Chatroom Chaos, Bloodline Bonanza, and an Alliterative Array of Adjoining, Adjacent Adjectives_

Ronald Weasley rolled out of the stupendously stubborn shrubbery, grumpily grumbling and pulling precariously placed leaves and tremendously troublesome twigs out of his hair. He scowled sourly at the pesky, perpetrating muffins for several monumental moments before his features softened and he lovingly patted one. Picking it up gingerly, he cradled it and cooed at it before cramming it into his ovular oral orifice.

"Oi! He's just eaten Melvin!" croaked the most decrepit of the muffins. "After him!" it shrieked, in a muffin-y sort of way, before crumbling into bits. The other muffins levitated into the air and growled menacingly (not to mention maniacally) at Ron _((A/N: it seems that the mold on the muffins was of a 'magical' strain and made them quite vicious))_.

"OH MY GAWD, A TALKING MUFFIN!" Ron cried shrilly as he scrambled swiftly away from the marauding, murderous muffins. They pelted after him, hitting him mercilessly.

_(Insert muffin hitting left knee noise here)_ "Aay!" Ron yelled, startled.

_(Insert muffin hitting right ear noise here)_ "Eee!" he cried after a violent blow to the ear.

_(Insert muffin hitting right ankle noise here)_ "Eye!"

_(Insert muffin hitting lumbar region noise here)_ "Oh!"

_(Insert muffin hitting gluteus maximus noise here)_ "YOU!"

_(Insert muffin hitting rather hollow sounding cranium noise here)_ "And sometimes whyyyyy!" Ron's quasi-vowel cry echoed as he tumbled down a hill, off a small cliff, and into the lake.

-----

Far (but not _too_ far) away, a much-feared personage was cackling gleefully while peering out a dirty window framed by filthy, tattered curtains. "Yes, yes," the figure crowed, "Wormtail has returned from his," here he paused, before adding (with a standard evil accent so as to suggest some sort of mischief, foul-play, and/or skullduggery), "_errand_."

Indeed, the figure was quite elated, and he threw back his hood to reveal a vaguely human visage. Voldemort, a.k.a. The Dark Lord, a.k.a. Ol' Red Eyes, a.k.a. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a.k.a. Tom Marvolo Riddle, a.k.a. The-Wizard-Formerly-Known-As-Tom, a.k.a. The Prince of Bleeping Darkness (he had stolen it from Ozzy after much coercion and several death threats), a.k.a. Tom-Tom (but only to a select few), a.k.a. Voldie-poo (a well-loved pet name from his earlier years), a.k.a. Moldy Voldy was ecstatic.

Pettigrew shuffled into the room warily, sniffling and sniveling and carrying a rather grimy, manky (not to mention mangy) breen burlap sack. "I-I hav-ve them, M'Lord," he spluttered.

He-Of-Many-Names grinned evilly and touched his fingers into an arch (Mr. Burns style). "Excellent," he cackled. "Wormtail, dump them out so I may see," Voldie-poo hissed.

Wormtail emptied the contents of the sack onto the dirty floor. A neat pile of Halloween Peeps sat at Tom-Tom's feet, and he clapped in glee. "Ah, yes," he sighed, "splendid work, Wormtail. Our Peep army is building! Now all we need are the Christmas, Valentine, and Easter Peeps so that we may attack at the end of the school year, as is our unchangeable custom!" Voldie-poo laughed manically for several minutes while Pettigrew, stopwatch in hand, dutifully timed him.

"Oh. F-four minutes an-and s-s-seventeen second-ds, Your Evilness. I th-think that might b-b-be a new rec-cord," he stuttered reverently. Voldemort curtsied.

"I must inform the Death Eaters of this favorable, marshmallow-flavored development. Wormtail, fetch the 'magical' communication box," commanded His Evilness. He settled into his favorite moldy armchair and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. Pettigrew returned, panting, and handed him his laptop, which was covered in sparkly Care Bear, Fraggle Rock, and Rainbow Brite stickers (Tom-Tom does it old skewl style, yo).

Voldie-poo chortled to himself as he logged onto all six of his linked screen names on AIM. He immediately summoned all of his faithful followers into a chatroom (entitled "Extra-Special Super Secret 'Magical' Funtime News!!!!111oneone").

_((Enter the Chatroom))_

_**SexiSnapeSnoggR has entered the room.**_

_**TricksyLadyBella has entered the room.**_

**_Goyle 22 has entered the room._**

**_Crabbe 33 has entered the room._**

**3vu7 70rd V07d13: **ahh…good. i have speshul newz 4 every1 and…

**3vu7 70rd V07d13: **...

**3vu7 70rd V07d13: **wheres sev??!!

**SexiSnapeSnoggR: **i…im not sure, tom-tom…liek, um…can i have teh job of—er—_punishing_ him this time? snickers

**SexiSnapeSnoggR: **hes so modelicious now…

_**Goyle 22 has left the room.**_

**_Crabbe 33 has left the room._**

**3vu7 70rd V07d13: **dammit, lucius, u always scare those sillies away…

**SexiSnapeSnoggR:** oh, shush…u like it ;) ::nudgenudge::

**3vu7 70rd V07d13: **teehee ::giggles::handflip::

**TricksyLadyBella:** Ugh, not again. It's hard to be evil and crazy when you two get all feminine…

_**LusciousLuciLuvR has entered the room.**_

**3vu7 70rd V07d13: **rollseyes _there_ u are…its not like we were _waiting _4 u or anytang…

**LusciousLuciusLuvR:** jeeeez. chillax. i was fixing my hair.

**3vu7 70rd V07d13:** anywayz, liek, i have newzz…wormtail just brought back _teh allies_…

**TricksyLadyBella:** The allies? What a splendid new development! cackles

**SexiSnapeSnoggR:** who r these allies that u speak of?

**3vu7 70rd V07d13: **rly, luci dearest, u should listen at teh meetings…

**SexiSnapeSnoggR:** pssh. wot-evah. how can i concentrate when sevvy's delicious bod is right in front of me?

**LusciousLuciLuvR:** wait, wth?

_**DeathEatRQueen has entered the room.**_

**_SuprSailorSaturn has entered the room._**

_**KillnWitDaHomiez has entered the room.**_

_**SlimNSexxxay has entered the room.**_

_**Pale izda Nu Tan has entered the room.**_

**3vu7 70rd V07d13:** oh my stars! mocksurprised who r u fiends?

**KillnWitDaHomiez:** BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!

**SlimNSexxxay: **BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!

**DeathEatRQueen: **BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!

**Pale izda Nu Tan: **BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!

**SuprSailorSaturn: **BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!

**3vu7 70rd V07d13:** BWAHAH—er, i mean, thats _my_ evul laugh! mockpouts

**LusciousLuciLuvR:** er, my lord? we know those are all your screennames…you try to pull this bs every time we do this stupid chat thingy…

**SexiSnapeSnoggR: **dammit…that SuprSailorSaturn sounded pretty hawt…

**3vu7 70rd V07d13:** severus, quiet u fool!!! _AVADA KEDAVRA!!!_

**LusciousLuciLuvR: **...um…yeah…

**SexiSnapeSnoggR:** sevvy-poo! ur alive!!!

**LusciousLuciLuvR:** so it would seem…

-----

Back at the castle, Harry Potter jumped away from his jigsaw puzzle, his scar tingling. "Must…log on…AIM…" he cried in a strangled sort of voice and quickly scurried away. Draco looked on reproachfully before returning to his baking.

-----

_**HDawgPotterPants would like to enter the room.**_

**3vu7 70rd V07d13: **wtf? guys…guys, i swear, this time, its not me…

**LusciousLuciLuvR:** rolls eyes…it's that prat POTTER, your ARCH NEMESIS…

**3vu7 70rd V07d13:** damn, hes a tricksy one…

**3vu7 70rd V07d13:** …wait…sev, dear, didnt i just, liek, _avada_ ur n00bz0r arse?

-----

A rather loud "What the h-e-c-k, he denied me!" was heard from the first year girls supply closet. Inside, Harry was perched on an old bucket, laptop balanced precariously on his knees. Quite ingeniously, if he did say so himself, Harry had hooked up the laptop to a small, makeshift treadmill on which Trevor was hopping gleefully (he had achieved compliance from the normally disgruntled amphibian by dangling a bit of old, moldy cheese just out of the toad's reach).

Harry typed furiously for several moments before grinning in triumphant satisfaction. "Time to hit 'em with the super secret second screenname," he whispered.

-----

**_FrshPckldToadEyes would like to enter the room._**

**SexiSnapeSnoggR:** fresh pickled toad eyes? isnt that liek a delicacy in crustacea?

**TricksyLadyBella: **Don't you mean Croatia?

**3vu7 70rd V07d13: **whatev… i already accepted thurr request

**FrshPckldToadEyes:** 713k 0H 3/\/\ G33, N00I3Z0RZ….1 P\/\/N j00 477!!!!

**SexiSnapeSnoggR: **sprackens ye english?

**LusciousLuciLuvR: **um, i think he said, "liek oh em gee, noobzorz….i pwn you all!"…and you totally effed up that german, luci…

**3vu7 70rd V07d13: **wow sev u shurr r s-m-r-t (just liek meeeeee)

**_HMasta Jeneraal has entered the room._**

**3vu7 70rd V07d13: LIEK WTFFFF?** who invited him?

**HMasta Jeneraal: **wurd to yo MOTHAAA, g, i do wut i waaant

**LusciousLuciLuvR:** …

**HMasta Jeneraal:** cuz baby ima gangsta southside representin'

**FrshPckldToadEyes:** professor!!! help me pwn these newbs!

**LusciousLuciLuvR:** whyyy, WHY did you let POTTER in?

**3vu7 70rd V07d13:** holy shniekies batman! it _is_ potter! out, u fool, out!

_**FrshPckldToadEyes has been blocked.**_

**3vu7 70rd V07d13:** hey i cant block albus :(

**HMasta Jeneraal:** that's cuz i bes too fresh to handle, t-dawg

**HMasta Jeneraal:** Oh, and before I forget…Severus, there will be a faculty meeting tomorrow after last period to discuss proper dress code. That get-up you wore yesterday, although fashionable and fantastic on your body, was a bit _too_ inappropriate for class. Neville Longbottom is still recovering from shock. However, you may wear it to faculty parties all you like.

**LusciousLuciLuvR:** grumbles incoherently

**HMasta Jeneraal:** peace out

_**HMasta Jeneraal has left the room.**_

**3vu7 70rd V07d13:** how does he do that? its liek majik or sumthin, teh way he bursts in…

**TricksyLadyBella:** So, My Lord, is it safe to assume that this meeting is adjourned?

**3vu7 70rd V07d13:** yah, i guess…i have a facial in five minutes…

_**3vu7 70rd V07d13 has left the room.**_

_**TricksyLadyBella has left the room.**_

**SexiSnapeSnoggR: **sevvy?

**LusciousLuciLuvR:** yes, luci?

**SexiSnapeSnoggR:** after ur faculty meeting, how about u come pay me a visit and, um, show me that inappropriate outfit of urs…winkwink

_**LusciousLuciLuvR has left the room.**_

-----

Draco had exactly eighty-seven pairs of shoes, thirty-two pairs of underwear, fourteen sets of school robes, seventeen dress-robes in assorted shades and patterns of green/silver/ebony, fifty pairs of pants (six pair leather), sixty-three shirts, three headbands (with matching terrycloth armbands—these were for his workout regime as well as for the occasions he decided to go ghetto), and four frilly frocks that few knew of. Darling Draco knew this because he was very, very bored. Harry had left him in a rush, leaving behind his assigned jigsaw puzzle, Draco might add. He sat in that silent and solemn kingdom known as boredom and patiently waited for his deliciously delectable, not to mention delightful, muffins to finish baking.

Finally, after Draco had started re-counting the hairs on his oh-so gorgeous head, Barbie's lilting voice called out, "Mm-mm, they're done, and they smell delicious!"

"Excellent, Barbie. Now to carry out my scrumptiously sinister plan. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—"

Draco's lengthy manic laughter was cut short as he noticed a nasty, mousy looking man with horrible hygiene and no fashion sense standing behind him and holding a running stopwatch _((A/N: why don't you go catch it?))_. "F-four minutes-s and-d tw-twenty seconds, a n-new record!" he cried annoyingly as a slightly confused and thoroughly violated blonde roughly shoved him into the hallway.

-----

A less-offensive-on-the-olfactory-sense Harry (he had just showered) entered the Great Hall, yawning drowsily. After all, he had been rather rudely deprived of sleep that night and had yet another day to survive. He just knew it was going to be a long day when he discovered that, in his lethargic state at the breakfast table, he was drinking from the syrup pitcher and pouring his glass of orange juice all over his pancakes (and this time it was not on purpose).

Harry was surprised to discover that Hermione looked just as tired as he did. "What, you stayed up late studying _again_?" he asked the hebetudinous girl across from him. Hermione blushed profusely and focused intently upon her blueberry bagel. Harry shrugged and studied the empty space next to him quizzically. _Where on earth is Ron?_

(Ron was, at this very moment, engaged in a rousing game of Go Fish down by the lake with the giant squid, who was rather aptly named Xavier Reginald Bartholomew XXIV, a grimy grindylow, and two meticulous merpeople)

Hermione took her attention away from her beloved carby breakfast item to notice Harry staring concernedly at Ron's place. She patted his arm comfortingly and said softly, "Don't worry, he's probably bwoen wownen flargheneejer nefjnnnnnnnghhnn."

Harry stared quizzically at Ol' Bushy Hair as her voice completely crapped out.

However, it seemed that Hermione was not the only one to have lost her voice. The entire Hall fell silent as both young Fabio—er—Draco and the-slightly-less-watched-yet-still-absolutely-_bello_-and-fresh-out-of-his-secret-private-'magical'-spa-Blaise entered the room suavely, techno music pumping in their wake, striking poses and sauntering modeliciously to their seats.

_((A/N: hey! wait! don't open that document! oh no, our muffins are burning! don't touch anything! bee are bee.))_

And Drekko runned to Heri andsed, "Ur sooooooooo georgeous and hott!" And Heri wuz liek "Whoa!" And Dreko wuz liek "Wot?" And Herri giggleyd "Teeeheee" And Hermyonie dyed. And romantick mewzik playeded and Drekoh Melfoi sed, "I luv u Hare-cakes-shuger-dompling-pye-sweet-berriez-snugle-mufen" And Harr Pottre sed, "OMG I luve u 2 Drake-dellishus-yummie-chery-bizkit-choclat-chese-popscal-belljunwafful-crosant-pienappul-cofee-darlng-poopsee-noodal-bigmac-bunie-mangoe-krumpit-lolypop-hottiepantz-poptart" And then Drekko kissd Hare-cakes-shuger-dompling-pye-sweet-berriez-snugle-mufen andthen Herri new he wuz pregnant and Drake-dellishus-yummie-chery-bizkit-choclat-chese-popscal-belljunwafful-crosant-pienappul-cofee-darlng-poopsee-noodal-bigmac-bunie-mangoe-krumpit-lolypop-hottiepantz-poptart wuz happi and they had teh bebe and it's name wuz Cobalt Lucifer Cinderella Ford Kraft Barbie Sir Elton John N00bz0r Billy Joe Kelloggs Severus Turkwazz Hephaestus Michelob Caesar Orangejello _oh RON gzhell oh _Lemonjello _lem OHN gzhell oh _Gerard Winston Banana Gwen Potter-Malfoy Malfoy-Potter Malter Potfoy and theylived happlee evur afturr. (a/n: (athor's note!!!11) ok,liek that wuz my 1 fanfic evur! it wuz soooooooo cuute! it wuz sooooo suzpenzfull…i peepeeed mi pantz! teeeeheeee liek eeeuww not! lolz zomg rofl lmao ya.)

_((A/N: what the h-e-double hockey sticks is that…? we go to save baked goods and this appears on screen when we return???… and the seat's all wet for some reason…um…moving right along…))_

So, to recap, Draco did not run over to Harry and proclaim his undying passion for the bespectacled brunette. Nor did Hermione die (unfortunately). The boys did not make up excruciatingly painful pet names for each other, nor did they kiss (yet). Finally, Harry most certainly did not conceive a fetus in some weird male womb, especially not one with twenty-eight names. And it should be noted that nothing, _nothing_, in this glorious tale involves stupendously horrid grammar, spelling, or lexicon.

Nor did Harry have to go get a physical to find out exactly _why on earth_ those pervy doctors held his testicles and asked him to cough (Hermione told him, and only Merlin knows from whence she learned _that_ little tidbit).

Harry spent the rest of breakfast focused quite intently upon the Slytherin pair across the Hall. In fact, he was so distracted by Blaise and Draco that he missed seeing Ol' Bushy Hair fall asleep and face plant spectacularly into a bowl of grits.

Blaise and Draco, full of sangfroid and totally _not_ noticing a certain Gryffindor even though they were taking surreptitious glances when they thought the other was not looking, were calmly buttering their English muffins.

"Ugh," Draco whined as he slathered copious amounts of spread onto his bread, "butter is sooo fattening, yet so delicious."

"Hmph. You know, the school doesn't actually give us real butter. It's too expensive and we'd all end up like Longbottom. That's just imitation spread," Blaise scoffed as he, too, coated his breakfast.

"What?" Draco cried out in fashionable surprise. Displaying his English muffin and the jar of spread, he exclaimed, "I can't believe it's not butter!" _((A/N: oh, come on, you knew it would happen eventually.))_

Half the school fainted, including a certain green-eyed, goggling Gryffindor.

-----

When everyone had recovered from that morning's eventful breakfast and made his or her way down to the dungeons for potions, the students were surprised (and possibly pleased) to discover that Snape was running late. Indeed, the class happily chatted and giggled while awaiting the arrival of their newly-sexy professor.

Blaise had coaxed a shy and skittish Harry into joining him at his table. Draco promptly vacated his seat with Crabbe and Goyle to join the pair, not wanting Blaise to gain an unfair advantage over their mutual prospect.

"So, Harry," Blaise was cooing as Draco sat down, "what were you thinking of dressing up as for the ball? I have to plan my outfit, you know! _(Insert on-a-scale-of-1-to-10-it's-SuPeR-GaY handflip here)_"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Silly Blaise, I have no need for a costume!" Harry exclaimed proudly. "This," he proclaimed, gesturing to himself, "is my costume."

Blaise looked quite befuddled. "Um, well. I was thinking of dressing as a pirate. Or a gigolo." He winked at Harry. Draco scowled.

"Well, you can be a jiggly-crow if you want, Blaise. I'll just call upon my 'magical' genetics and invoke my mystical beastly powers to transform me into the belle of the ball," Harry said superiorly.

"'Magical' genetics? Potter, what are you on about?" Draco scoffed (but not really. In his mind, Harry was rather beastly, in more ways than one).

"No, Dra-Malfoy, listen," Harry began eagerly as he leaned across the table towards Draco, laid his hand atop the blonde's, and locked his eyes earnestly with Draco's. Draco felt slightly warmer and his hand tingled under Harry's. Several moments passed before Draco realized Harry was speaking, and he quickly put all of his energy into paying attention.

"…and so after I tried to sabotage Voldie-poo's chatroom, I went to this website that yielded some very valuable information about my past and my genetics and such. I think it was fansfriction or fannedaffliction or some website like that. Anyway, it turns out that the reason I'm so weird is because I'm a vampire-elf-dark veela-secret transvestite-unicorn-faerie-secret transvestite-fallen angel-human basilisk-cowboy-secret transvestite-son of Satan-pony-sea nymph-alcoholic-tree child-secret transvestite-half girl-Flying Spaghetti Monster-evil twin-secret transvestite-submissive/dominant mate-copy cat-secret transvestite-insomniac-feral child raised by wolves-secret animagus with phoenix powers." Harry took a gasping breath before continuing. "And you, Malfoy, are actually a full-powered veela-imp-mermaid-centaur-vodka lover-pegasus-Templar knight-fairy-faerie-fairee-fée-fey-faye-seraphim-rowdy drunk-rebellious son of God-troll bogey-incubus/succubus-part angel-schizophrenic-kinky closet pervert-white blood cell vampire-OCD freak-ferret/dragon/white wolf/peregrine falcon/albino cobra/fluffy arctic hare/chinchilla animagus." Harry sat back in his chair, winded.

Draco and Blaise blinked bemusedly at one another for several moments before Blaise leaned in towards the recovering brunette and asked, with a large, toothy, minty-fresh grin, "And what did the, um, webspot say about me?"

"Oh, er," Harry thought hard for a moment. "It said you were a boyfriend stealer and a slut, whatever that is. It also said you were a fag and/or faggot, though I don't know why anyone would mistake you for a cigarette or a bundle of kindling." _((A/N: just in case you didn't know and so you won't be infinitely confused, cigarettes are called "fags" in Britain, and no, we did not make this up))_

Blaise's smile slowly faded. "Oh, really? That's all?" he queried through gritted teeth, trying hard to hide the disappointment in his voice. Draco smirked maliciously.

"Well, it said you were a total fairy as well," Harry added. Blaise brightened (or did he glow?) a smidgen at this bit of news.

It was at this moment that Professor Snape decided to saunter into the classroom from the side door behind his desk that led into his private quarters. He took his position before the class and shook his tousled hair out of his face to reveal that he was…grinning?

"Good morning, class. Lovely day, isn't it?" Snape chirped cheerily, positively beaming. The class sat frozen, stunned into silence by this strange turn of events. "Today will be a free day! Carry on!" Snape practically bounced over to his desk, flopped down into his chair, propped his feet up in front of him, and pulled out the latest copy of _Cooking with Cauldrons_, a monthly 'magical' food-preparation magazine.

The students eventually recovered and returned to gossiping, doodling, and twittering. Blaise studied Snape for a moment longer before turning to Draco. "Well, _someone_ finally got laid," he whispered with a smirk. Draco snorted to stifle what would have been a rather unmanly case of the giggles. _Granger, you sly minx,_ he thought. Then he immediately grimaced and fought the horribly overwhelming urge to dry heave at the thought of Granger naked anywhere with anyone.

"What?" Harry asked, befuddled.

"Oh, come on. Got laid? Got down and dirty? Got on with his bad self?" Blaise prompted good-naturedly. When Harry only became more puzzled, Blaise stared at him incredulously. "Er—right, then. Never you worry your pretty head." He ran his fingers through Harry's messy hair and whispered, "I'll, er, _demonstrate_ everything for you after we go to the Halloween Ball."

"Now, now Blaise," Draco growled through a forced smile, "Harry hasn't yet made his decision."

Harry nodded. "Oh, and you don't need to show me, I think I know what you mean," he added matter-of-factly. "Oh, look," he sighed exasperatedly in response to Blaise's querulous glance. He got up, lay down on the floor, and proceeded to roll around in the grimy remains of someone's spilt potion.

"What seems to be the problem here, gentlemen?" Harry stopped rolling to gaze upwards at the speaker, who was none other than their modelicious professor. Snape seemed to have regained some of his former irritableness now that he was in the presence of his least favorite student.

"Oh, er, hello, professor. I was just, um, testing this out. I mean, since you seemed to be so happy this morning, I thought it might, er, work for me," Harry stammered awkwardly.

"And what, pray tell, might that be? Spit it out, Potter, what are you doing?" Snape sneered down at the wriggling boy.

"Getting laid, of course!" Harry replied. Blaise shrank under the table in sheer horror, embarrassment, and disbelief. Draco stuffed his fingers into his mouth and looked away in a desperate attempt to keep from laughing. Harry, blissfully unaware as usual, barreled on cheerfully towards his impending doom. "That is to say," he continued, misinterpreting Snape's violent facial tic as confusion, "that Blaise was saying you got laid last night and that's why you're so jovial today." Here, Hermione bolted from the room like a startled colt in a lightening storm, leaving a perplexed Ron staring after her. By this point, the rest of the class (excluding Blaise, who was cowering under the table in terror) had broken into soft giggles. "So I thought I'd try it out, you know? So I got laid on the floor and was getting down and dirty in this spilt potion, like Blaise sa—"

"Class dismissed!" barked Snape, cutting Harry off before he could do anymore damage. "Except," here his tone changed, becoming soft and dangerous, "Potter, Zabini," he pointed, indicating his next victims. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of white-blonde hair near the door and called, "Mr. Malfoy, you will join us as well." Malfoy turned around, pale as his hair, and gulped as he walked back over to the cowering Blaise, the wriggling Harry, and his diabolical(ly sexy) professor.

Several hours later, the trio emerged, slightly shaken. Harry, not really guilty due to sheer ignorance, was punished only with the deduction of 50 House points and the task of fetching Hermione and informing her to report to Snape's office when he was allowed to leave. Draco, who sidled out of his true culpability through successfully feigning ignorance, merely had to sit through Snape's lecture and watch him dole out punishments for Harry and Blaise. Blaise, the most guilty and least ignorant of the three, was given the interminable task of explaining the birds and the bees (when Blaise had snidely asked, "Homo or hetero?" Snape's facial tic spasmed so badly it seemed as though his skin might fly off and do _la cucaracha_) to a very ignorant and innocent Harry whilst Snape hovered over him like a gathering thundercloud. Needless to say, the experience was not pleasant at all for any of them.

The three entered the Great Hall for lunch, parting ways to sit at their customary tables. Harry notified Hermione that her presence was requested by Snape, and she blushed red and quickly exited the Hall. Harry sighed glumly and listlessly poked at his food, his appetite diminished by the loss of House points and by Blaise's graphic descriptions. Uncomfortable, fidgety, and not hungry, he left the Hall more preoccupied than normal, so, naturally, he ran into twice as many people as usual, and the human contact made him feel squidgey inside.

After attempting to ride his stationary bike, but having no luck because he was so distracted that he forgot to pedal and his radio consistently went off, Harry sighed with exasperation and went up to his room. He flopped down heavily upon his crusty bed and morosely munched upon some old Pretzel Goldfish and raisins he happened upon scattered between the sheets.

Ron finally re-entered the boy's dorm to find Harry licking what appeared to be marmalade off of his pillow. "Er," he said, announcing his presence.

Harry froze mid-lick, tongue still touching the pillow. "'i 'on. 'ere 'ave 'oo 'een?" he uttered awkwardly.

Ron quirked a ginger eyebrow at his friend. "Er, you all right, mate?" he asked.

Harry removed his tongue from the pillow and sighed. "I don't know. I think something might be wrong with me," he whispered. He turned his attention to wringing his comforter in his hands anxiously. "I can't concentrate. Could I be pregnant?" Harry asked nervously.

Ron's eyebrow rose so high that it threatened to disappear into his hair. "Erm. Right." He shuffled his feet awkwardly for a moment before sitting gingerly next Harry and placing a comforting hand on his comrade's shoulder. He sighed heavily and muttered, "Oh bugger. This might be a bit of a problem, mate."

"What should we do?" Harry asked tentatively, his voice quavering.

Ron gave him a determined look. "We should ask Hermione, that's what," he declared decisively. "C'mon, let's go find her." He stood, pulled Harry from the bed, and set off quickly, dragging a rather distracted Harry behind him.

After informing Ron that Hermione had been summoned earlier by the greasy git himself, the pair awkwardly made their way down to the dungeons (awkwardly because Harry proved a rather cumbersome object to drag down stairs, and because he continuously sang the "Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree" song without pause). The two were a mere ten yards down the corridor from Snape's office when the heavy wooden doors swung open and a very disheveled, blushing Hermione emerged and turned in their direction.

"…laugh, kookaburra, laugh, kookaburra, gay your—egad!" Harry broke off mid-lyric and pointed. "Hiyo, Ol' Bushy Hair!" he cried merrily. Ron merely stood stock still, gaping at an area near Hermione's chest region where a button was haphazardly forgotten.

Hermione recognized her friends and cringed slightly. "Oh, er, hello," she mumbled, glancing shiftily around. "I've, er, got to be going, er…place…" She made to leave, but Harry rushed forward and tackled her. She glared disapprovingly at him, but then her mood shifted to surprise when she noticed that tears were welled up in Harry's eyes (his nose was running profusely as well).

"'Mione," he wailed oddly through his own snot, "I, er, I…" Here he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

Ron stopped gaping like a big mouth bass to offer, "Harry's gone and got himself knocked up." Harry wailed in confirmation and blew his nose wetly on Hermione's collar.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shoved the sobbing and sniveling wizard off of her. "Oh, _honestly,_" she snapped, her basoomas jiggling in irritation. "Boys don't become pregnant. They lack the proper equipment."

Ron pulled the front of his trousers out and looked down, then remarked, "Er, well, I seem to have a fair bit of equipment…Are you sure?"

Hermione huffed, "Of course. You have _different_ equipment! That's why you aren't girls!" Her hair seemed to curl and frizz with agitation.

Harry and Ron exchanged knowing looks. "Ohhh," Harry replied, enlightened. "I thought we were boys because we always get special treats from Dumbledore and then pass out and wake up later in his office and he sends us home with a pat on the rump and then when we ask him why we get candies, his eyes twinkle and he says, 'Because you've been a good little boy, Harry'."

Ron nodded his head vigorously in agreement as Hermione stared oddly in disgust and disbelief. "Well, that's not the real reason. And you're not pregnant. You _can't_ get pregnant. It is totally and completely physically impossible."

Harry pouted, jutting his lower lip forward and crinkling his nose. "B-but…I already had a name picked out! I was going to name teh bebe Cobalt Lucifer Cinderella Ford Kraft Barbie Sir Elton John N00bz0r Billy Joe Kelloggs Severus Turkwazz Hephaestus Michelob Caesar Orangejello Lemonjello Gerard Winston Banana Gwen Potter-Malfoy Malfoy-Potter Malter Potfoy!"

"What a darling name," Ron squealed, PPSG style.

"What a horrid name," Hermione scoffed. "Well, on that preposterous note, I'm off to the library." She stuck her nose in the air and flounced off, leaving the pair outside Snape's doorway.

The duo shared a mutual shrug and headed back up towards the Tower. Harry decided to use this moment to ask his good buddy for advice. "So, er, Ron," he said hesitantly, glancing shiftily from side to side, "the Halloween ball is this weekend, and—"

"You're asking me?!" Ron interjected happily. "Why, Harry, I—"

Harry shook his head. "Er, no. You're my best mate, not my date." He failed to notice Ron's abrupt mood swing. "No, I need your advice. You see, these two amazingly sexy and gorgeous, er, _girls_ both—"

"Wait, girls?" Ron looked a bit confused. "But I thought Zabini and Malf—"

"No, Ron," Harry cut in, "**_girls_**." Ron stared bemusedly at Harry but let him continue. "So, these two girls who are definitely female and not Young Fabio or the Italian Stallion both want me to go to the ball with them, and I can't choose!"

Ron thought for a moment (his expression was rather comical, as this action did not occur often). "Well, I reckon you should just decide that night. Meet them a bit early in the entrance hall and pick whoever looks hawter in her costume."

Harry hugged Ron ecstatically, knocking the wind out of his freckly friend. "Brilliant!" he shouted. "Thanks, Ron!" He abruptly turned and sped off towards the Slytherin common room to tell his, um, "lady" friends of this new development.

Ron shrugged and decided to head to the kitchen. Upon arriving, he stood imperiously before the house elves and commanded, "Get me a drink! I'm 99.9 parched!"

* * *

Note: we did not make up the "Kookaburra" song.

"It's a song I learned in pre-k!!!!11one" says Elizarita.

the full version:

_Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree,_

_Merry, merry king of the bush is he;_

_Laugh, Kookaburra, laugh, Kookaburra,_

_Gay your life must be._

or, something along those lines...


End file.
